


Into The Jaws Of The Serpent

by lightningrapunzel



Series: Jewels Between Teeth [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, Complete, Drama, F/M, In which Loki is victorious, King Loki, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 20:39:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 93,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightningrapunzel/pseuds/lightningrapunzel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eva Manning, an expert in Norse culture, is called in by SHIELD to question a certain Norse god. Three days later, and the undefeated god proclaims himself King of Midgard. Yet after taunting him and verbally sparring with him the days before, Eva must run. She knows he will chase her. But for how long? He promised her a game - and a game she shall have...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

It was early afternoon when they let her into the chamber. Fury had already briefed her: she was only here because she was an expert on Norse mythology. She had the best understanding of these gods.

Well, that was what they told her. The reality, she reminded herself, was probably quite different. Loki confused even the most able scholars; he was a complexity which divided them, and with every theory, there arose at least two which would contradict it.

When she found him standing there, she simply paused. She wasn't a fool, she knew he knew she was there, and a soft laugh fell from his lips.

"Is there any particular reason you feel compelled to watch me, mortal?"

Loki turned to face her, his emerald eyes glinting like chips of broken bottle glass. She did not tremble though, or even waver. She'd seen his face through cameras and windows; she was used to it. He was as imposing in person as he was on camera, and she inwardly thought he was an intrigue. A puzzle to be solved.

A wry smile curved her mouth.

"Curious thing, aren't you?" she remarked, her gaze assessing. "A tangle of intricacies. What a confused being you must be."

His brow elevated, and she felt a flicker of satisfaction at realising she had piqued his interest, even if it was only slightly.

"Go on."

"You seek approval," she said, meandering around the cage and strolling towards the glass. "You believe that conquering this realm will win you points. Respect, even. But I wonder if you even understand this world, Loki Laufeyson."

His jaw tensed at that, and he took a step forward, his eyes icy.

"You presume much, little mortal."

"Ah, so I'm right. How quaint." She laughed quietly, and looked at him, unafraid, her blue eyes sparkling with mirth. He was much taller than her, much more striking, but she knew she could walk away at any moment. Unlike the many others, Loki did not inspire fear in her.

He tilted his head, studying her. His eyes flickered; she was not one he could fathom quickly, and he listened, faintly intrigued by her.

"I know you're going to get out," she continued calmly. "You let yourself get captured. You're ten steps ahead of everyone here. I can see it. You hide it well, but your eyes are far too expressive."

Loki suddenly grinned, wide, amused.

"Are you psychoanalysing me, dear?"

_So he knows about Freud_ , her mind thought briefly.  _Hmm. Interesting. Doubt they have psychotherapy on Asgard; otherwise he'd have had sessions long ago._

She raised an eyebrow. "Freud?"

His smile never faltered. "Many fascinating theories came from that man's mind."

"And you're a classic case of 'problems stemming from childhood'," she replied, somewhat sardonically. He cocked his head in acquiescence, eyes flashing only briefly.

"Well put," he said softly. "But you never answered my question, mortal."

She rolled her eyes.

"No. I have far too many of my own difficulties to even contemplate untangling yours. You're twisted and deluded; god knows what your mind's like."

Her eyes appraised him standing there. He was regal even when caged; he reeked of superiority. There was no denying he truly believed he should rule over Earth. But there was no way he could. "Seven billion people? Truly?"

"Of course." His voice was calm. "I will be your realm's king, and every single one of you shall kneel."

"Not me." She gazed at him unflinchingly. "That is not my way. I have never deferred to anyone; you will hardly change that, I think."

"Are you giving me a challenge, little mortal?" His eyes gleamed, and he took a step forward. "How tempting of you… I accept."

She smiled dryly. "You would."

She paused, measuring her next words.

"Care to tell me why you chose Midgard?"

Loki was visibly surprised by the speech that fell from her lips.

Old Norse.

He tilted his head, his green eyes calculating.

"I have never met a mortal who knows the language of Asgard," he says softly, the same vernacular rolling in his mouth. "Intriguing."

"Yes, well, believe it or not, it is actually taught here on Midgard," she replied dryly. "Not widely, but it can be learned."

"And they sent you here. To see if I can be seduced into surrender by you, the one who speaks my tongue." He smirked. "I see. Well, Ms Manning… I am afraid I shall have to disappoint you."

The fact that he knew her name did not surprise her in the least; he was a god, and a powerful one at that. He could have a thousand abilities – telepathy seemed almost a given. It did not mean she accepted it, however, and her eyes narrowed.

"Skim my mind again, and I will not hesitate to blow you sky-high."

He laughed. "My dear Eva, your bullets cannot harm me. None of your feeble mortal weapons can. Your threats are meaningless,  _lítteinn_."

Her eyebrow lifted at that word. "Am I so little?"

"What an obvious question. Of course you are. You all are, to my kind."

"Would that be æsir, or jötnar?"

She knew she was treading a thin line; Thor had warned her not to bring the subject up. But she couldn't resist; the fact that she had called him Laufeyson instead of Odinson had rankled him, and she gained some form of twisted pleasure from it. Sure enough, his eyes darkened, and he walked forwards, menace crawling over his skin, shaping his expression.

"Have a care how you speak."

"Why?" Her shrug was elegant. "I neither know nor respect you. You are a complete stranger; it matters not to me how I address you."

His sudden smile threw her off guard. The look in his eyes was almost predatory, and Eva felt a ripple of unease slither its way down her spine. She felt as though she were about to fall straight into a trap – a trap she was all but in the dark to.

"Oh, how wrong you are." His tone was triumphant, laced with more than a little amusement. "How very wrong you are, Ms Manning. How very wrong indeed."

She took a step back, uneasy. He was playing a game which she was not privy to; it left her off-balance, blind. She stared at him, trying to guess his motives, his next move. He simply smiled.

"You will kneel. In time."

"I'm one mortal. I do not think I am  _that_  significant."

His head cocked. "Oh no. But you present a challenge, my dear; one you made it  _far_  too easy for me to accept. A chase. A game, if you will. And I fully intend to play you. In every… single… way."

His voice had dropped to a low purr, and it both unnerved her and – she realised in horror – aroused her. And judging by the smirk on his face, he knew it. Eva realised she had had enough of him. She wanted out; never mind what Fury had wanted. Enough was enough. She wouldn't crack him – at least, not yet. She forced her cheeks to cool, and fixed him with an iron stare, though her heart was thundering with apprehension.

"It will not happen. You will lose, and we will win. As we always have done."

She turned on her heel and left, almost desperate to leave the chamber. She did not see Loki's smile, or hear his murmured reply.

"Ah, but there is always a first time for everything."

* * *

Three days afterwards, and the world watched as a tall, poised being arose from the rubble of the city of New York, proudly proclaiming himself King.

The Avengers had been defeated. Any immediate resistance was all but eradicated.

Four months later, and the world had been brought to its knees.

Loki had won.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! This is my first fic on here (though you can find it on FF as well) and I hope it is to your liking!
> 
> Lightning xoxo


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note on the use of Old Norse:
> 
> I will combine Old Norse words with Icelandic if the sentences are long, or if I cannot find an accurate Old Norse translation. This is because Icelandic is the living language which is most similar to Old Norse; if you speak Old Norse to an Icelandic speaker, they'll understand about 70% of it, if not more. Also because it is extremely difficult to find lengthy and accurate resources on Old Norse, and my knowledge of it is very limited so far (though I'm hoping to study it at university).
> 
> Also, letter translation/pronunciation, for future reference:
> 
> ð = d
> 
> þ = th
> 
> Just so you can read it more easily. Okay, onwards we go!

Once the news had broken, Eva had run. Run back to England, her safe base. She knew Loki would come after her – though how soon, she couldn't be sure. She silently cursed herself over and over for piquing his interest, for being so goddamn confident that he viewed her as a test.

After Loki had destroyed all major opposition, the Earth had realised he was not one who could be contested. He had declared his right, and he had won. He left most cities intact, privately admiring various pieces of architecture – though the hideous metal structure known as the Eiffel Tower, well, that simply had to go. One by one, the nations bowed their heads and accepted him as their King; with America subjugated, there was very little effective military strength left to battle the Asgardian and his forces. Any who did rise up were soon slaughtered by the Chitauri – that was a lesson quickly learnt.

To Eva's surprise, her life changed very little. She rented a new apartment, obtained a job as a librarian, and lived as normal – or as normally as she could hope to. Loki had left England mostly unharmed, though London – as with most capital cities – had been badly damaged. Its infrastructure was intact, but its people were left trembling, terrified that worse would befall them.

Yet Eva resided south of the city, in a smaller town where life was almost as it has been before. Calm. A vague semblance of normality.

It was almost another two months before it all shattered.

* * *

"To John and Mary!"

Applause and cheers rang out across the hotel restaurant as Eva's grandparents smiled and kissed. Their sixtieth wedding anniversary. Eva sat across from them at one of the circular tables. Surrounding them were at least six other tables full of her grandparents' friends, all grinning and clapping. Eva glanced at her dad, sitting beside her, and he gave her a warm smile, squeezing her hand.

"Time for you to be getting married, isn't it?" he teased. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm twenty-five, Dad. I've got time."

"Of course, sweet pea." He laughed and took a sip of wine. "Next thing you know, you'll be as old as most of these wrinklies."

"Dad!" She smacked his arm, and he laughed again. She shook her head, running a hand through her golden curls.

"You're dreadful."

"So I've been told."

The entire room, filled with chatter and giggling only a second before, fell eerily quiet. Eva frowned as she noticed her grandparents – and everyone near – looking wide-eyed at something behind her.

Or someone.

"Good evening, Eva."

She froze as the voice slithered over her, and she closed her eyes as the whispers started.

No. No. No. She had made it six months, almost seven. She was safe!

"You." Eva's father stood, eyeing Loki with a mixture of shock and wariness, not caring to address the god by title. "You know my daughter?"

Loki's chuckle sent ice shooting down her spine.

"Indeed I do. Why, Eva, did you never tell your family of our encounter?"

Loki's tone was wicked, and satisfaction rolled through him as Eva answered him with silence and a blush, seen by all except him. He did not need to, however; mortification radiated from her in waves. He sighed in mock-disapproval.

"It does not do well to keep secrets, my dear. Especially from your kin. Now, might I borrow you for a moment?"

She had not turned to look at him at all, and she swallowed, composing herself, taking a breath.

"You may not." Her voice was steady, much to her internal shock. "This is a personal celebration; I do not wish to be disturbed. Please leave."

He tutted.

"Defying your King, Eva?"

"You are not my King. I have not knelt, I never will."

There was a ripple of muttering at that.

"Eva, do you really wish to cause a scene?" This was spoken in Old Norse, and several pairs of eyes widened at the language switch.

Eva sighed and turned in her seat to finally look up at him. He was dressed in a sleek black suit with a dark overcoat, a green and gold silk scarf around his shoulders. He held a black lacquer cane in his right hand, and she steeled herself.

"Hvað vilt þú, Loki?"  _What do you want?_

His head tilted, and a smile shaped his mouth.

"Sjöt."  _Company._  "You intrigue me, Ms Manning. I wish to converse with you. Shall we?"

Her father made to object, but she placed her palm on his chest.

"No. It's fine. I will be alright."

He watched Loki, eyes narrowed. Loki returned the look with one of dry mirth.

"Do not test me, mortal. I am quite sure your daughter would prefer I let you live."

She glared at the god. "Don't you dare."

Loki's eyes gleamed. "Oh, you  _are_  a fiery one."

"When you bully my family? Yes. King or not, no-one threatens the ones I love."

She rose from her seat, but a little hand caught hers. She half turned to see her little brother looking up at her, innocent blue eyes worried. She bent and kissed his head.

"It will be alright, Aidan," she murmured, stroking his cheek. "I will be back soon. Eat your ice cream."

Loki watched, an amused smile edging his mouth.

"Do not fret, little one. I mean your sister no harm."

Eva's eyes narrowed as her stance instantly turned defensive. "Do not talk to him."

The corner of Loki's mouth quirked, and he gestured.

"Shall we?"

With a last look at her family, she walked with the god to the other side of the restaurant, where a waiter opened the French doors leading onto the balcony. Loki led her to a table nearby, and he bade her sit. She did so, smoothing her dress – a knee-length, strapless scarlet silk affair which hugged her curves. She softly requested a glass of water (alcohol was out of the question; she needed every bit of her wits now) and after taking Loki's order of the best red wine they could offer, the waiter departed, leaving the two of them alone.

Loki sat back in his seat, eyes appraising the mortal opposite him. A fierce intelligence burned in her eyes, and she held herself elegantly, her posture fine even in his presence. He knew that he made her uneasy, yet she still maintained an air of confidence around him.

She watched him, and her eyebrow lifted slightly.

"Studying me, are you? Am I so fascinating?"

"You carry yourself well," he remarked. "You are much more refined than many of your race."

"My, was that a compliment?" No-one could have missed the edge of sarcasm in her words, and Loki's expression turned amused.

"Merely an observation. Take it as you will."

Eva's eyes narrowed slightly, examining his countenance. She was good at reading others, but he was well-trained in the art of deception. She was very aware that he would never allow true feelings to show.

"Why now?" she asked quietly. "Months later? I would have thought you'd forgotten me."  _And oh, what a sweet blessing that would be._

"Forget the only mortal I have met who speaks my language?" His eyebrow raised. "You possess uncommon characteristics; of course you would not slip my mind. And I accepted your challenge, did I not?"

The blood drained from her face as the implications hit her.

_Oh god, what have I done?_

"What you have done, Ms Manning," Loki said casually, nodding at the waiter who arrived with their drinks, "is piqued the interest of your King. Whether that was wise of you… is debatable." He dangled the wine glass between his long fingers, his gaze piercing hers.

"You are not my King," she replied steadily, seething at his invasion of her mind. "I have sworn no fealty to you; I will neither bow nor kneel."

He laughed.

"Ah, and how long will you continue to say such things,  _lítteinn_?" His eyes glittered with mirth. "It sounds as though you are attempting to convince yourself."

She took a sip of her water. It tasted fresh, and it helped to clear her head.

"As long as it takes for you to understand it," she replied icily, her gaze fixed upon him. "You're an intelligent being, I'm sure it won't be too taxing for you. Unless you choose to be ridiculously, deliberately obstinate. Or do I mean obtuse?"

"Were I so inclined to be hurt by words, I would be wounded by you. As such… they do little more than amuse me."

"Ah, but you and I both know words are the most effective weapon of all," she replied calmly. "What was it they called you on Asgard? Silvertongue?"

The corner of his mouth pulled up. "Thor never could learn to keep quiet."

"I asked for information in order to better understand you," she answered evenly. "I set no limits or rules as to what he told me, only that it must be interesting."

Loki chuckled, and he lifted his glass to his lips, tasting the wine.  _Not bad_ , he mused, before returning his attention to her. He gently set the flute down, steepling his fingers.

"And were you suitably interested, my dear?"

"I think you know the answer to that, don't you?"

He was silent, pondering over his thoughts. She was clever, and somewhat sly. He could not deny that it appealed to his mischievous nature, but it irked him deep down that one mortal could be so fascinating. He had never been bested by one, yet she seemed to almost match him verbally and in mind.

No matter. He would have her kneeling before him soon enough. She was beautiful, with her immaculate blonde curls and azure eyes, yet her place was at his feet. As all mortals' places were, whether literally or figuratively.  _For her_ , he thought gleefully,  _it would have to be literally._ Oh, he would take such delight in breaking her, reshaping her to suit his needs and desires.  _Yes. Her fire is pleasing, but her submission? Even more so._

"I will have you before me," he said, so casually it only heightened the unpleasant knot of tension in her stomach. "You will surrender. The more you struggle, the more I shall savour it." The look in his eyes was dark, predatory. "You are no longer free, Eva. Freedom no longer exists for your kind. Whether by your will or not, you will submit to me. And you will find that subjugation is all that you have ever craved."

"And if I run?"

"Then I will pursue you," he replied, still nonchalant. "You cannot run forever, Eva. And you will tire long before I do. You could give in to me now – but I know you will not. You are foolishly stubborn, you cling to what you believe remains of your cherished 'freedom'. But when I catch you, little one… how sweet my victory shall be. For me, of course. I cannot promise how pleasurable it will be for you."

"I'm one human being in a sea of seven billion. I am not an intrigue."

"Oh, but you are. You made that quite clear the moment you opened your mouth and spoke in my tongue. That was your fatal mistake, Eva Manning. Perhaps you should have declined SHIELD all those months ago."

"I had no choice. I was dragged." As calm as she tried to sound, it still felt like a protest, and humiliation flooded her.

"Liar." The word, spoken so simply, so easily, cut her like a freshly sharpened blade, and she inwardly winced. "You wanted to come. To finally meet one of the gods you had spent your life reading about. So tell me, my dear." He leant forwards. "Do I satisfy your curiosity?"

She backed away, standing up, her heart thudding, her veins flooding with fear. He tilted his head upwards to look at her, and a malicious smile shaped his mouth.

"Afraid of me,  _lítteinn_?"

She forced herself to keep from retreating.

"Stay away from me."

Loki's smile widened. "It's too late for that. Far too late."

His gaze seared her like black fire, all amusement gone.

"I will hunt you down. I will  _break_  you, piece by piece, until you are a lovely fragmented toy with no other will but mine. I do not care who I use or how long it takes. You  _will_ yield to me."

Horror washed through her, and she stared at him.

_I do not care who I use…_

Images of her little brother screaming and dripping scarlet flashed in her mind, images not of her own mind, and her face went white.

"Don't you dare," she said, her voice trembling. "Not him."

Loki laughed softly.

"Careful, Eva. Your guards are down."

In a split second he stood behind her, and she tensed as his hand closed around her throat, his voice a harsh whisper.

"I will not stop until you come to me. Only then will I consider mercy, if at all."

He released his hold, and she stumbled, gasping for breath.

"Run along now. Go back to your family. After all, who knows how long they will live for?"

With his soft amusement echoing in her ears, Eva walked away from him, desperately trying to compose herself before she entered the restaurant. Her hand closed on the doorknob, and she took a deep breath, pushing her emotions away. Opening the door, she stepped back inside.

Absolute silence greeted her, and her eyes fell on her loved ones, white-faced and anxious. Without faltering, she made her way over to their table and took her seat, saying nothing, though countless pairs of eyes burned into her.

"Eva." Her father's voice was soft. "Did he hurt you?"

"No," she replied, as steadily as she could manage. "He didn't."

"Eva, sweetheart – " her mother began, but Eva held up a hand.

"No. I don't want to talk about it. Not today, okay?" She glanced at her little brother, and smiled ruefully. "You finished your ice cream, I see. Not leave any for me?"

"My ice cream. Get your own," he said petulantly, and Eva grinned, ruffling his dark curly hair.

"Spoilsport."

The celebrations soon resumed in pace and noise, and Eva almost forgot that Loki had appeared at all.

Almost. She could still feel his hand around her neck, hear his laughter, see his malevolent expression as he threatened everything she held dear. She would not speak of him, however, despite her family's best efforts. Not even her little brother's persistent questions about the 'King' could sway her, though it broke her heart to refuse him answers. She remained silent on the matter, and it was a relief to eventually retire to her hotel room at the end of the festivities.

Until she noticed the note resting on her pillow.

It felt as though she'd been doused in ice when she saw the emerald ink on the front. Written in his hand. She knew it had to be him. It had to be.

With trembling fingers, she slowly picked it up. Made of good quality cream-coloured card, smooth to the touch.  _Only the best for him._

Biting her lip, she read the single word upon it, and she closed her eyes as fear trickled through her being.

_Þegar_ _._

_Soon._

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

Loki sat back in the chair, rubbing his thumb along his bottom lip. New York was a broken city, but he was slowly raising it up to its former glory. He had made it his capital, his personal domain. It was the perfect location – situated in the most powerful country in the world, known as a political and economic hub, and he could keep an eye on every other nation. Not to mention the glorious winters, which appealed to his jötunn heritage – though the summers could prove unpleasant.

Over the previous months, he had met with every single president, prime minister, monarch, and they had sworn oaths to him. He wasn't called Silvertongue for nothing. Ever the diplomat, he had spun veiled threats and warnings should they defy him, and they had been intelligent enough to realise that he was  _not_  a force to be reckoned with. Those who had opposed him, right from the start, had been incarcerated, and with no-one else capable of challenging him, nations had knelt, agreements had been signed and the people of Earth subjugated.  _As they were always meant to be._

It did not matter that Nick Fury and his agents were still out there. They had nothing to use, no-one to rely upon. Every Avenger was imprisoned – save Thor. Thor had run; whether back to Asgard or to his beloved Jane Loki cared not. He had outsmarted the god time and time again, and he would not hesitate to do so once more. Jane was a lovely, innocent thing, but her work was primitive. With portals opening as and when he pleased, Loki had no use for her, and had calmly dismissed her as unimportant, leaving her in Norway. After terrorising her a little, of course. Her screams had been so very beautiful.

Besides, there was another mortal far more interesting than Jane Foster. Loki's lips curved as the image of Eva's fearful expression lingered in his mind. That had looked glorious on her visage. Even then, she still reeked of defiance.  _Foolish girl._  There really was no point to it; she would not unseat him, she had no power. So why did she refuse to accept him as her King? Was it pride? And why was he even bothering with her?

Well, that was a question easily answered.

He never could resist a bit of mischief.

* * *

Eva could no longer stand to read Norse mythology. Especially if it involved Loki – and most of it did, in some shape or form. Why would she sit and leaf through it when the two gods she had met had reshaped her view of all she had ever studied? True, Loki was a mischievous –  _evil_  – jötunn and Thor wielded Mjolnir, but the similarities all but stopped there. Thor had confirmed the non-existence of wives and children before she had entered the chamber. The eight-legged horse, Sleipnir, was not a progeny or indeed creation of Loki's.

She felt like shooting Snorri Sturluson.

That, and she had no idea what to do. She had no magical powers, no super-strength, no abilities. Nothing. She was, in a word, defenceless.

Except for her tongue. She could still speak, still counter him with speech. Yet even that wouldn't hold him for long. She had seen his eyes, the dark intent, the desire to bend her to his will. It wasn't just subjugation he wanted. No. He wanted to  _destroy_  her.

Once again she cursed ever going to the Helicarrier, cursed her rampant curiosity. She had no way of getting out of her predicament alone. But she had seen the news. She knew the Avengers had been defeated, yet whether they were still alive…

No. There was no plausible way of finding them. Loki had defeated them; they couldn't protect her, they –

Her eyes widened, and she let out a cry of rage.  _Protection_? When had she ever needed  _that_?

 _Since you got tangled up with him_ , her mind whispered traitorously.  _He's a god, Eva. You can't hide from him._

It had been a week since the encounter at the restaurant, and she was on edge almost constantly. She had no clue when he would make an appearance – and her nerves were starting to fray. She almost wished he would turn up, just so she could stop feeling ridiculously apprehensive.

Common sense told her that she probably should have knelt a long time ago. But she just couldn't. She felt no love for him, no allegiance, and certainly no respect. It was her pride that held her back, and her firm belief that all were equal. That, and he had taken the Earth by force. Not something she was particularly agreeable to.

"Eva, can I stick chocolate chips in now?"

Her little brother's voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she smiled down at him as she blended the various ingredients in the bowl.

"Not yet, sweetie. You've got to wait till the dough's all mixed together, okay?"

Aidan pouted, and sneaked a few chips into his mouth.

"Hey!" she scolded, playfully tapping his wrist. "If you keep doing that, there won't be any left for the cookies."

He looked extremely dissatisfied, but made no complaint. Eva gestured to the bowl.

"Here. Stick your hands in and get mixing. Not fair that I have to do all the work when you'll be the one eating them."

He giggled as his fingers plunged into the mixture. "It's all sticky!"

"That's the point, kiddo. Now, mix!"

He did, very eagerly, and she held the bowl, not wanting the ingredients to fly everywhere. Cleaning her kitchen was  _not_  on her list of things to do.

"Slowly, slowly! That's better. Make sure to be gentle, alright?"

"Kay," Aidan responded, only half-paying attention. She raised her eyebrows.

"No licking the mixture, either."

" _Ohh_ ," he protested. "But it tastes  _good_!"

"Mum won't thank me if you get ill. No sneaky licks of the spoon. Promise?"

He huffed, but gave in. "Promise," he muttered grudgingly.

"Good."

The cookies were shaped, placed onto the tray and the tray slid into the oven. The two of them high-fived, and after thirty minutes of washing up, lounging around and watching garishly animated TV, the timer dinged. Aidan all but hurtled into the kitchen, bouncing around the room. Laughing, Eva turned the oven off and pulled on oven gloves.

"Stand back, kiddo. We don't want you getting burnt, do we?"

The cookies emerged golden and smelling like paradise, and she left them to cool. It was only when her parents turned up to take Aidan back home that she placed a still-warm cookie in his hands and handed the plastic box of the baked goods to her mother with a wry smile.

"I did promise him."

"That you did," her mother laughed. Her expression suddenly sobered, and she hugged Eva with her free arm.

"Be careful," she whispered so only her daughter could hear. "I know you're worried. Don't let him hurt you, Eva."

She pulled back after kissing Eva's cheek, and with a smile and a goodbye, she and Aidan departed. Eva closed the door, and a chill crept over her shoulder, lingered over her like a lover's breath.

"As if you could stop me from hurting you."

She closed her eyes, and her hand gripped the doorframe. She did not turn to look at him. I can't.

"How long have you been here?" she asked quietly, the words heavy on her tongue like lead; she had a feeling they would be just as poisonous too, soon enough.

"Not long."

He said nothing more, and she forced herself to half-turn. He leant against the wall, wearing a soft grey suit and slim black tie.  _Dressed to kill_ , her mind briefly mused. Loki's lips twitched.

"My dear, if I wanted to kill you, I would have done so all those months before."

"Oh, so I'm being allowed to live? How very kind of you." She was right; her words felt like poison now, so angry and bitter was she. "Perhaps I should fall at your feet and praise your name, then."

The twitch of his mouth grew into a wide smile. "That will happen, I assure you. You will look quite lovely, in your proper place."

Understanding bloomed then, and revulsion twisted her face. What he suggested… had her feeling sick, had her desperately wishing, as clichéd as it was, that everything was just a goddamn dream.

"You expect me to come to your court. To leave the life I have here behind. To be one of your playthings."

He laughed. "Darling, I have no need to dress you in the garments of a whore. That is not your purpose; whores do not resist their master. You do."

"Then what do you want of me?" she half-shouted, eyes filled with frustration, a need to comprehend what it was he truly meant. "What can I possibly have that is so fucking interesting to you?"

His eyes flashed, and his lips thinned. "Such vulgarity does not suit you, Eva. Careful how you speak to me."

"I don't give a damn," she replied coldly. "I have no –"

Loki had her by the throat, and her eyes widened as he gently squeezed. His eyes were dark, swimming with malice and sin and all things abhorrent, and his other hand stroked her cheek. It was only the second time he had touched her, and it terrified her beyond belief. She tried to turn her head away, but he tutted and grasped her jaw, forcing her to face him.

"Now. Will you behave?"

"Get your hands off me," she snarled. Her blue eyes were flaming, and Loki savoured the bite in her words. She was wild, but he would tame her. He could do with a little amusement, a diversion from reigning over her beloved Earth. He chuckled, and the pad of his thumb pressed into her neck, feeling her racing pulse.  _Mortal. So undeniably mortal. Fragile; I could kill her before it had even registered in her mind._

He caught her leg before her knee could slam into him, and he sighed. In a split second he had spun her around and thrust her up against the wall. His hand grasped her curls, and he pulled her head back, causing her to yelp.

"What exactly was it that you hoping to achieve by that, pray?"

She refused to answer him, breathing heavily, wincing at the pain in her scalp. He leant close, his mouth nearly brushing against her ear.

"You fight so much more effectively with your words, my dear. I suggest you stick to them."

He released his hold, and she rested against the wall, her heart pounding, head screaming. Adrenaline spiked through her veins; never had she felt more alert, more aware. She ran a hand through her hair and slowly revolved to meet his gaze.

"Do you see why I don't kneel?" she said, somewhat shakily.  _Damn it._  "Violence. I don't take well to it. At all. You've threatened my family, shown me images of my brother covered in blood and screaming – a little boy who is  _not even ten years old_  – and now you assault me. It doesn't take a genius to figure that one out. Now. If you came here to torment me, I suggest you leave. Lose your interest in me. Let me live as I wish. And don't you dare go after my brother. I'm done with you, Loki. One defiant woman should not occupy your thoughts so. Especially when you have a goddamn planet to run. So go. Get out. And don't ever come back."

He surprised her by walking away from her and into her living room. His gaze scanned the area, and when they settled on a well-read copy of  _The Poetic Edda_ , he rolled his eyes. It was lying abandoned on the floor – he guessed she had thrown it across the room, and his lips quirked. Yet then he saw the photograph. Of her and Aidan. He made his way over to the frame, ignoring her outrage, and ran his finger along the glass.

"He is not your brother, Eva."

She froze a few feet from him, and her eyes fell to slits.

"If you are referring to the fact that he is adopted, I am well aware of that fact."

"Where does he come from?"

The question took her aback, and the answer was out of her mouth before she could rein it in.

"Eastern Europe, adopted after a war."

His back stiffened almost imperceptibly. It did not escape her, however, keen-eyed as she was, and she tilted her head.

"Much like Odin rescued you."

He whirled, and his eyes were icy with rage. Not filled with fire; just a chilling fury that made her instinctively retreat a step.

"Do not speak of things you know little of, mortal."

She raised an eyebrow, though sense told her that was a very, very bad idea. But she wasn't about to cower in front of him. Millions – billions – had already done just that. Not her. Not ever.

"If Odin hadn't taken you, you would have died. Would you prefer that? Somehow I think not. Though I imagine the Earth would have been a damn sight better off if you had."

That was cold, and she knew it. Yet she didn't care. After all, he was the one who said she fought better with words. She might as well live up to that. His tongue wasn't the only one that could cut.

"I would think that you would want your family to live, would you not?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't do that. Do you see? You get verbally bested and you resort to threats because you can't think of a decent comeback for I bet the first time in the history of ever – "

He started laughing, catching her off guard, causing her to halt.

"My dear Eva," he grinned, "that was not a threat. You have heard me threaten you before; you know I can be much more… intimidating."

He was an inch away from her before she could move, and his fingers toyed with the hem of her pale blue t-shirt. Distaste flickered across his features as he rubbed the material between finger and thumb, and she stared up at him, eyebrow raised.

"Yes?"

"This suits you ill," he remarked, his tone near dripping with disdain. "The dress you wore previously flattered you a great deal more."

Incredulity splashed itself across her face in a widening of eyes and a pinking of cheeks, and she made to back away, only to be thwarted by his grip on the fabric.

"What does it matter to you? They are mine. I wear what I want. Today so happened to be a day of relaxation. I could hardly bake in a silk dress, could I?"

His fingers brushed the skin of her waist, and she jolted, slapping his hand, trying to make him stop. An amused look shaped his countenance, and his fingertips pressed into her flesh.

"Don't."

She fought to hide a wince as his nails dug into her skin, and a low noise of mirth sounded from his lips. His head leant close to her ear, and his breath chilled her to the bone as he spoke smoothly, his voice slick, weaving its way into her mind, taking root in her soul.

"I do what I want,  _líttein_."

He relinquished his grasp, and she retreated at once, her face white.

"The next time we meet, Ms Manning," he said softly, "you will be dressed in something far more becoming."

"Purely for the reason that it will please you?" She noted with satisfaction that her biting tone had returned. "Why would I do that? I will not parade around solely for your gratification. You have your whores for that, no doubt."

"Again, you presume much, little mortal."

Those words, repeated after so many months, had her turn momentarily mute. A wide smile curved the corners of his mouth, and he canted his head, eyes glittering with his trademark mischief. She scrutinised his expression, and when she spoke, she could not disguise her surprise.

"Alright. No whores, then."

He chuckled. "Such a human viewpoint. What is the phrase? Ah, yes. You breed like rabbits. Besides… my women, when I have them, are not so brazen. Not so petty, either."

"You prefer intelligence. Brain rather than body."

"Quite. Which will give you the answer as to why I continue to toy with you."

Horror washed through her, and she shook her head, backing away instinctively. A single word was all her closed-up throat could manage.

"No."

He smirked. "You think I merely want you in my bed?"

She frowned, and he chuckled, low, dark.

"No, Eva. You  _know_  what I want of you."

"To break me." Her voice was a rasp. He inclined his head.

"Yes. What I want, my dear, is to see how far I can push you before you shatter. Pleasure controls. Pain breaks. It is as simple as that. For you… it will be a concoction of the two. Both mentally and physically."

"An experiment." She was surprised she could even form words in her dread. The blood had drained from her face, and he advanced towards her, with the panther-like grace of a predator. His hand reached up to cup her cheek as she stood, frozen, and the way his thumb stroked the ashen skin was almost tender. Sickeningly so. He tilted her head up, and leant down, his lips mere millimetres from hers

"A game," he whispered. "One that you cannot hope to win."

"And if I refuse to play by your rules?" she asked quietly. He smiled a smile that reminded her of a shark about to seize its prey, and she felt as though she were teetering on the edge of an abyss.

An abyss she could never hope to climb out of.

"Then the game will become a lesson. Of the most unpleasant kind. You forget that I could quite easily kill your family in a single second. If you wish for them to live… you will play by the rules I set."

She stared up at him, her gaze never wavering as she tried desperately to search for a loophole, anything that would render his so-called game void.

But she found nothing.

"You will come to New York. You will take chambers at my residence. Is that understood?"

She glared at him, and an awful laughter lit his eyes. His fingertips lightly pressed into the supple softness of her cheek, and then he dropped his hand.

"Pack your things. Do not speak with your loved ones; I shall know if you do. You will be driven to the airport tomorrow. There will be a plane waiting for you. You will take it. You will fly to New York, and afterwards you will be driven to my abode. Is that clear?"

She eyed him warily. "Crystal."

His sudden smile was disorientating, and it made her head spin with confusion.

"Oh, and do not think of running, Eva. I shall only catch you…"

He vanished, and her eyes remained fixed on the spot where he had been.

Her knees buckled, and she hit the floor, though she did not cry. She would not be so weak, not now. She only trembled, and she shifted to sit on the carpet, hugging her knees. Less than an hour before, she had been laughing and smiling with her little brother. And now she had to leave him. Leave all of them, in order to keep them safe.

If it hadn't been so terrifying, she would have laughed. The situation was clichéd, unbelievably so. How many films had she seen where this basic plot had occurred?

And she had no guarantee Loki would even let her family live once she arrived in America. It was a fool's decision, to accept his terms.

But she had no choice. Not one that was viable.

She bit her lip, and closed her eyes as the reality hit her and the fear threatened to drown her.

By tomorrow, she would be utterly at his disposal. And if she wasn't careful… he was highly capable of ending her life. If she bored him, she would die. If she defied him too much, she would die.

Balance. Order, chaos. That was the way it was supposed to be.

But all she could see was the latter.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this has satisfied you, lovelies. Let me know what you think!
> 
> Lightning xoxo


	4. Chapter 4

_He had this planned all along._

And yet, it didn't really surprise her. He was cold, calm, methodical. The complete opposite of his brother – as brief as that meeting had been, she had been instantly able to see just how different the two of them were. Fire and ice. Literally. Forget chalk and cheese; the two of them just… did not possess any similarities at all.

The car ride to the airport had been foreboding, to say the least. The vehicle itself was sleek, black, with tinted windows and a gleaming body. The driver barely spoke, and Eva plugged herself into her iPod, trying to use music to ease her apprehension. It didn't really work. The music she preferred was hard, bass-driven stuff, often dark and meaningful. In frustration she tossed the iPod back into her bag, and gazed out of the window, biting her lip.

She hadn't even spoken to her loved ones, and that threatened to split her heart. She didn't know when – if – she would ever see her little brother again. She found her hand slipping into her bag and drawing out her phone. She scrolled her list of contacts, and halted on one.

_M &D Home_

All it would take was one press, a lift to her ear, spoken words. Just that.

And she felt a sudden urge to push it. See what would happen. She wasn't even out of the country yet and she wanted to test Loki.

But suddenly the image of her brother crying and bleeding swam in her mind, and she dropped the phone, horror freezing her body. No. She couldn't. If Loki had no qualms about hurting a child… she was fairly certain he'd start with Aidan. Only a little pain, but enough to make her give in.

_Good girl._

Her eyes shot wide, and she turned to look beside her. He was not there. But that had definitely been his voice. She grimaced, and leant back against the leather seat, eyelids falling shut. She would bear him, bear his psychotic behaviour. She had to. Until he tired of her.

Either way, she was fairly certain she wasn't going to get out alive.

And strangely enough, that didn't alarm her. A sense of calm overrode all strong emotion, and she set her jaw. She would meet him, and she would meet him with elegance, grace, poise. She would not let him get the better of her. Not this time.  _Never again._

She was still resolute as the car drove onto the open asphalt, and her eyes widened as she saw the jet on the runway. It was shining, white.

And most definitely a private one.

The car stopped, and the driver got out. The door opened, and the chauffeur held out his hand. She took it, murmured her thanks, stepping onto the tarmac. But when she looked into his eyes, she was momentarily startled. Sympathy. Pure sympathy. It made her façade almost crack, especially when his lips moved.  _I'm sorry_ , they seemed to say. Yet he made no sound at all.

He walked to the trunk of the car, picking up her cases and bags. She made her way around the vehicle, where a man dressed in black approached her.

"Ms Manning. A pleasure. Will you come this way, please?"

His voice was cool, controlled. Not as silken as Loki's, but it was effective. Her gaze was guarded – as it always been the minute Loki came into her life – and the man gestured, walking towards the stairway leading to the plane. She followed him, keeping pace.

She did not ask his name. If she was honest, she didn't give a damn about him. Neither did she care about the stewardesses who greeted her, though she was polite enough to them. She refused their offers of alcohol, settling on just water (though how her taste-buds ached when she saw the vintages on the drinks menu. Blame her father for raising her on good wine). Alcohol was something she could rarely afford to drink now Loki was intrigued.

Although, the flight was around five hours long…

Fuck it.

"Actually, could I have a glass of the 1982 Chateau Latour?"

If Loki was going to host her –  _keep her prisoner, more like_  – he better make it worth her while.

And she figured, at over £9,000 a case – and quite frankly, she was amazed that this particular wine was even  _on_  the plane – this was pretty damn worth it.

For starters.

* * *

The plane touched down five and a half hours later, and Eva made her way out of the door and down the staircase, where –  _surprise, surprise_  – another black car awaited her, a Mercedes. She slid inside without a word, feeling on edge and irritated. Tiredness could hit her soon. It would be ten o' clock at night back in England; it was only five in the afternoon here.

"How long until we get there?" she asked the driver.

"Should be about half an hour if the traffic's good, miss. If not, double that," he replied, eyes never straying from the road.

Half an hour.

All concept of being tired flew out the window as adrenaline spiked.

"And he lives where, exactly?"

"You don't know?" The driver couldn't hide his incredulity, professional as he was wont to be. She fought the blush on her cheeks.

"I'm British, sir. Never been to America before. Plus I've been avoiding anything to do with that so-called 'King'. So yes, I don't know."

"Well, you'll recognise it when you see it. You know much about the skyscrapers here?"

"I know a few."

"A few's all you need."

An incredulous look spread over her face.

"Wait. Are you telling me he's taken one of the  _skyscrapers_?"

"He has."

"Jesus fucking Christ." She sat back in her seat. "As long as it isn't the Empire State."

It wasn't, as it turned out. The car drove towards a particular district, and her eyebrows shot up. Anyone would recognise it, even if they'd never been to New York before.

"Business District. Huh."

Her eyes settled on a tall skyscraper, the tallest she could see in her line of vision, and they widened as gut instinct told her exactly what the driver did in that same second.

"We're here, miss."

The Chrysler Building. One of the most spectacular skyscrapers in the world, with a beautiful Art Deco design.

"Art Deco." She rolled her eyes. "Figures."

"You know him personally?"

"Yes. Not that I like it." Her tone was curt as the door was opened.

"Be careful, miss."

"I will. Thank you." She shot the kindly driver a small smile, before taking the hand held out to her and stepping from the Mercedes. The hand belonged to another gentleman, dressed in dark grey. He inclined his head.

"Ms Manning. His Grace is expecting you."

_His Grace._  She almost laughed aloud at that. How absurd it sounded! But she had no time to show her mirth, for the gentleman bid her follow him. She did so, walking beside him, and the doormen tipped their caps to her as she passed.

A tip of respect? Or a tip of 'I'm sorry'?

She barely knew.

Her attention was swallowed by the sheer beauty of the hall before her. She inhaled, and her eyes shone. Art Deco. Everywhere. From the walls to the windows to the doors. And it was absolutely  _exquisite_.

_No wonder Loki chose this place. I would._

She was led to an elevator, and the doors closed behind the two of them.

"Exactly how many floors does this building have?" she asked, glancing at him.

"Seventy-seven, ma'am."

_Wow._

"And where are you taking me?"

"His Grace has requested that you be taken to your suite before meeting with him."

_Suite. What in God's name is that madman planning?_

The ride up was quiet after that – Eva had nothing further to say, and the man didn't seem inclined to idle chitchat. Which she was grateful for; any small talk would make her irritation rise tenfold. It seemed an age before the elevator halted and the doors slid open. The man signalled with his hand.

"After you, ma'am."

She made her way out, and was met by a tall girl dressed in soft gold, her brunette curls glossy, her makeup perfect. The girl smiled amiably, and Eva instantly felt a little easier.

"The King bids you welcome, miss. He wishes that you might refresh yourself before dinner."

Eva's eyebrows shot up.

"Dinner?"

"Of course. He requests that you join him to dine privately; a guard will show you the way when you are ready to meet him. If you will follow me, please."

Eva took a good look at the girl as they began to walk. She was younger than Eva by a few years, taller, with a meek air. Eva almost felt sorry for the girl when she briefly saw into her eyes. Loki had clearly frightened her, so much so that she couldn't hide it, even when the rest of her façade was perfect. Eva did not say a word on it until they reached a double-door entrance, and two guards opened the doors for them. The girl ushered Eva inside – and if Eva had so been inclined, her jaw would have dropped.

She was standing in an opulent lounge, with period pieces of furniture –  _oh yes, honest to god period pieces_  – and gleaming walls. She slowly spun around, eyes wide. She had never seen anything like it, and when her gaze settled back on the girl, the younger one cracked a smile.

"He really doesn't do things by half, does he?" Eva remarked dryly. The girl bit her lip to keep from laughing, and warmth filled Eva's heart. Gently, she reached forwards and grasped the girl's shoulder.

"Don't let him hurt you," Eva said softly, her gaze locking with the younger's. "Don't."

The girl's mask cracked, just for a second, betraying her shock and fear, before it re-sealed itself, and she swallowed.

"Dinner will be in two hours, miss," she whispered, before backing out of the room. The doors closed, and Eva sighed. She sat in the nearest chair, contemplating her surroundings. They were, in a word, lavish; she wouldn't want for comfort here. Loki obviously cared not for money, had spared no expenses – the wine on the plane alone had proved  _that_.

_Well, when you are Supreme Ruler of Earth, money is no object_ , she mused.  _But why is he going to so much trouble?_

She couldn't make sense of it. She was neither his queen nor his mistress – thank god. Yet he would never treat his so-called 'whores' like this.  _So what is he playing at?_

Rubbing her temples, she rose from the chair, and headed towards another pair of doors. Pushing them open, she was once again overwhelmed by the sheer decadence of the room. The largest bed she had ever seen dominated the room, a four poster clothed in red and black. The furniture was perfect, and when she turned to the side, her eyes widened. A walk-in wardrobe the size of her bedroom back in England. And it was full with not only her clothes, but others. Dresses of every colour that flattered her, buttery-soft leathers, embroidered coats, lightweight blouses…

It was when she checked various compartments that a blush stormed her cheeks, a shocked gasp sounding without her even being aware of it.

The lingerie provided was both gorgeous and sinful. From demure cream French lace to sophisticated dark satin red, every design one could wish for was there.

But it unnerved her. The underwear was not meant for practical, everyday use (though she did discover a drawer of that, later). It was loaded with insinuations, and she quickly closed the compartments, feeling apprehensive. She walked rapidly away to another door across the bedchamber.

The en-suite bathroom was the cherry on top. The bath was more like a jacuzzi, large enough for four. And the shower? She was pretty damn sure she'd never seen any shower quite  _that_  size. Excitement bubbled in her, despite her forebodings about dinner, and she shut herself in the bathroom. Hoping to high heaven he wasn't inside with her, she stripped and stepped into the sizeable shower, She turned the dials, and steaming water gushed from all directions, bathing her in luscious, instant warmth. She stretched her aching muscles, and quickly soaped up, wishing that the cleansing was only for her benefit.

She really, really didn't want to join him for dinner. Dinner meant wordplay. Dinner meant seduction. And she wanted to stay away, as far away from him as was possible. His smile unnerved her. His eyes sent shivers through her. And his words made her think things that she hadn't even known her mind could conjure up.

Eva emerged from the bathroom, and her eyes widened as they fell upon the dress lying on the bed. Dark green, silk, with a low neckline and ruches on the hip. She rolled her eyes; she had not missed the symbolism of such a colour. She was sorely tempted to disregard the garment, beautiful though it was, and wear something of her own choosing.

Yet then an idea sparked.

With a devious smile, she slipped into simple black-lace lingerie, leaving the brassiere behind. The dress was low-cut and backless; wearing such an undergarment would detract from its beauty. Smoothing the dress, she sat on the stool in front of the dressing table, and attended to her hair, makeup, accessories. All her jewellery had been unpacked, all her toiletries placed in cupboards. She knew just the perfume to wear, the accoutrements to set off the gown, the heels to complement the whole ensemble.

Oh, she'd play his game alright.

But she was damned if she wasn't going to bend the rules.

* * *

Exactly two hours after the girl had left, there was a knock.

"Come in," Eva called. The doors opened to reveal a tall, armoured guard. Mortal, not Chitauri – and for that she was grateful. His eyes widened a little at the sight before him, but he swiftly regained composure.

"Will you come this way, ma'am?" he said steadily, though his eyes still roved. She smiled, and walked to the doorway, pausing inches from where he stood.

"Of course. I'd be delighted."

Less than five minutes later, and they arrived at yet another double-door entrance, grander than hers. The guards either side stood to attention, and the sentinel who had guided her bowed and left.

"Enter," came Loki's smooth, authoritative tone, though how it could have sounded so clear and carried so well through the doors was a complete mystery to her. The guards opened said doors, and, taking a breath, she walked in.

The room was spacious, adorned in sleek black and metal, glass at every turn. It was beautiful, aesthetically pleasing – but she had never expected anything less from him.

The god himself was standing by the window, looking out onto his broken city. A slight smile graced his lips, and he slowly revolved. His eyes drank her in, and she raised an eyebrow.

"You approve, I take it?"

He laughed softly, and gestured elegantly with his hand.

"Turn."

She gradually spun. His gaze never wavered, taking in her flawless alabaster skin, perfectly coiffed golden curls, her subtle makeup and the figure encased in that slip of a dress, with the jewels at her neck and ear lobes. Any mortal man would have been on their knees before her. But Loki was not inclined to be so adoring. Besides, she was the one who deserved to kneel, not him. He merely nodded.

"It is an improvement on our last meeting," he remarked indifferently. Amusement toyed with her mouth, crept into her eyes. He was dressed in what she gathered was Asgardian clothing, black leather and green robes, his long dark hair framing his chiselled countenance. No armour, though that didn't surprise her. She knew she was no more a threat to Loki than Jane Foster was.

"No, but you are of considerably more interest to me than she," he spoke, the mirth lacing his tone, almost lazy in its cadence, though his diction was, as always, perfect. "Jane Foster is far too innocent to prove much of a challenge."

"Ah, you prefer a little teasing, then. How predictable."

His mouth twitched and he strode towards her, calm, measured.

"Might I offer you something to drink, my dear?"

"Just water, thank you."

He tilted his head. "No wine?"

"It's better to have all your wits about you when sparring with the enemy, is it not?" she coolly retorted.

_Ah,_ there _is my little lioness_ , he thought gleefully.  _An appropriate title, for she is so very fierce. How I shall enjoy bringing her to heel._

"As you wish," he replied, conjuring a goblet and holding it out to her. She walked forwards and took it from him, careful not to brush her fingers against his. This did not escape his notice, and his eyes flickered, though he did not comment on it. She raised the chalice to her mouth and sipped. He watched as she swallowed, and she licked her lips. Her gaze had never faltered, and she nodded.

"For once, you actually saw fit to be a gentleman and not drug me."

"My lady, you wound me. If I wanted to seduce you, I would have already begun, without the aid of narcotics."

She raised an eyebrow. "Forgive me, but I do believe you have already begun. Your attempt, that is. The lingerie in my suite is not just for a practical purpose now, is it?"

"Ah, but I do not hear you protesting."

"You are lucky. I almost wore a different dress."

"You would have chosen the red silk, in an endeavour to taunt me," he responded evenly. "Alas, it would have been futile, my dear. Your efforts to declare yourself your own woman are becoming increasingly meaningless. The fact that you are here, and attired in a garment of  _my_  choosing, suggests you have little control, if at all."

She eyed him warily. "Why are you doing this? I could understand it if it were a cell, with a board for a bed and no windows. But a three-room suite? With luxurious Art Deco furnishings?  _Really_?"

He took the goblet from her, placing it on a table, and his finger traced her bottom lip. If he had been mortal, he would not have heard the faint intake of breath before she pulled his hand from her mouth as if it burned her.

But he wasn't, and he heard it quite clearly. Satisfaction seeped through his being, and he chuckled at the outrage on her visage.

"And yet, I don't recall you enquiring about the wine," he whispered, as if to a lover. "You seemed to enjoy my hospitality a great deal then."

"Exactly how did you manage to find a bottle?" she asked cynically. He smiled darkly.

"A King has his ways. Now, would you like to dine? You must be ravenous, particularly after your flight."

Without waiting for her reply, he placed his hand at the small of her back – her nerves tingling at the barely-there contact – and led her to the next room, where there was a good-sized table and luxurious-looking chairs. She took her seat, graceful as always, and he sat opposite her. With a finger, Loki beckoned a servant to him, his eyes still fixed upon Eva.

"Bring the dishes," he said calmly. "But before you do – Eva, I insist you drink something other than that dull liquid."

His tone made it quite clear that she could not refuse, and inwardly her skin crawled. Yet then mischief sparked in her eyes, and a slight smile toyed with her mouth.

"So be it. I will have a Sex on the Beach. Oh, and a jug of  _sparkling_  water, if you please."

His eyes had flickered ever so slightly at her words, and her smile widened, her eyebrow lifting in amusement. Two could play at this game. And she intended to play him, in every, single, way.

"As the lady wishes," Loki replied, and the servant bowed, departing the chamber. The god's gaze was still on her, and she canted her head.

"It's a cocktail, Loki."

His expression did not change nor falter.

"Your teasing will prove fruitless, Eva. Engaging one who means to bed you regardless is never a wise idea. Particularly when you are trying to remain untouched by them."

"So you  _do_  intend to have sex with me. Is that how you will break me? Do tell, I'm intrigued."

"Patience, Eva," he answered, eyes glittering. "Do not presume. You  _do_  have a habit of doing that, it seems. A habit I shall have to break."

"You'll not break a thing, Silvertongue." The name fell easily from her lips, and Loki found that he did not abhor it as much as he had suspected he would.

"It depends on what 'thing' you are referring to."

He was saved from her biting retort by the arrival of her food, and the servants set the plate down before her, her cocktail and the jug of sparkling water swiftly following. The cloche was removed from the plate, and instantly her eyes lingered on the meal before her. Soft white fish, cooked in parsley butter. Creamy mashed potatoes. Steamed green beans. She murmured her thanks to the servants, who bowed and left the room. She looked at Loki accusingly.

"Should I ask how you knew?"

"I know a great deal more about you than you realise," he responded dryly. "Now please, eat."

She frowned slightly as he poured her a small goblet of water; he had no meal set before him, only a chalice of what looked like wine.

"Will you not dine as well?"

His lips quirked as he placed the jug back upon the table.

"I am afraid not. I hope you do not think badly of me."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry. The first impressions were made months ago," she countered sardonically, cutting a piece of fish and placing it delicately in her mouth.  _Delicious_. She chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. "I doubt they'll change much."

He steepled his fingers, watching her as she continued to eat. She was elegant even then, and it pleased him to a ridiculous degree. Her manners were impeccable, and if she had been an Asgardian, he would have thought her highborn. Her family background was no such thing; she had been born to a very young couple, only twenty at the time, and they had raised her while simultaneously finishing their higher studies. However, they had raised their daughter well: beautiful, educated, skilled with speech. And a mistress of wit, it seemed;  _that_  he relished.

"I find it interesting that you do not have any blood siblings," he said casually, sipping his wine. "Your parents had you at quite a young age."

Her eyes narrowed. "You know exactly why I don't. You know everything about my background, so don't act as if you do not. It's childish. As if you expect me to lose it the more you taunt and push."

"Interesting choice of words," he replied dryly. "And the more I push, the more you will lose. Piece… by… piece."

"And knowing you, you will ensure that the edges are as sharp and as jagged as possible."

He smiled, and sat back in his chair. She ate a little more, seemingly undisturbed by her own words, but he could see the shape of her shoulders, the tension that lay in knots beneath her soft white skin. No matter what façade she might wear, he would always know her true feelings, even without skimming her thoughts.

"I did say I would break you. And I cannot do that without inflicting a little pain, can I?"

"I have a high pain threshold, I'll warn you now."

"Physically, perhaps. But mentally? You were shaken by the single image of your brother bleeding." His voice was calculating, and his stare was utterly cold. "I wonder how long it would take for me to reduce you to a quivering mess of a woman, weeping on the floor, begging me to stop the agony. I do not imagine the waiting time would be particularly lengthy."

Eva set down her cutlery, and fixed her gaze upon him, icy blue. God, she loathed him. His words, his smile, the looks in his eyes. Every inch of him, she abhorred. And he knew it. Loki suddenly rose from his seat, and walked around the table to where she sat. Her posture instinctively became wary, and he leant down to peruse her eyes with his own. His hand cupped her cheek, despite her efforts to flinch away from him, and his words were like the smoothest velvet imaginable.

"So defensive," he whispered. "But have no fear; I will make those defences of yours crumble to ash." His fingertips ghosted along her skin, and the faintest of blushes stained her cheeks. Noticeable to his keen eyesight, however, and he leant close enough for their lips to almost brush.

"I will leave you trembling,  _líttein_. The pleasure will blur with the pain, and you will not care which is bestowed upon you. You will only crave my touch."

"No." It was no more than a choked rasp, and he chuckled darkly.

"You do not have a choice, Eva. You are at the mercy of your King… and he is in no mood to be merciful tonight."

She suddenly felt extremely tired, and Loki tilted her head up with a long finger, his eyes searching hers.

"Your biological rhythms have been disturbed, I see."

"It's two in the morning in England," she pointed out wearily. "Of course they've been goddamn disturbed."

He smiled almost tenderly, but his words were like poison.

"Go to bed, and your dreams will be your nightmares. You will toss and turn and scream and weep and I shall be watching all the while."

"I'll take my chances," she hissed, and she stood up, pushing him away. A sharp pain erupted through her scalp as he casually gripped her hair, and she gasped as he yanked her back against his chest.

"You do not push me. Is that understood?" His voice was soft, dangerous as it lingered in her ear, and she tensed.

"And you do not speak to me so," she replied coldly. "Let go of my hair, and let me go to my bed."

He threw her forwards, and she almost lost her balance, her breath catching as adrenaline surged.

"Go, then. Go and have your rest. But I will not be so kind in the future, little one."

"Consider myself warned," she retorted sarcastically, and, slipping her high heels off her feet, she dangled them in one hand and walked away, never once turning back to look at him as she left the chambers.

Loki watched her leave, and his eyes travelled up her slender, lithe form. He tilted his head, and a soft laugh sounded.

"Oh, my dear. That was  _not_  a warning…"

With a sinister smile, he melted into the shadows, and planted his consciousness inside her mind. Imperceptible to her mortal mind, but when she slept… he would make sure she never wanted to slumber again.

And how delicious that would be.

 


	5. Chapter 5

It began as a whisper. A soft ghost of a voice, weaving its way into her mind, into her dreams. She stirred, her legs shifting in the bed, and a lulling tone wrapped itself around her dreams.

_Hush, little one…_

She found herself wandering down a carved stone stairway, cream in colour, wide. She was barefoot, and the off-white dress she wore was soft against her skin, loose but not shapeless. Her fingers brushed the material and felt a wide metal belt around her waist – silver, when she glanced down. Her hand ran down the stone rail as she made her way down the steps, pulled by an unseen force, and she found herself in a large hall, all the same tone as the stone of the staircase.

"Ah,  _there_  she is."

She looked up, and fear threatened to stop her heart.

Loki, sitting calmly on what looked like a marble gold-seat bench with two bull's heads at either end, dressed in a sleek black suit, with a green and gold scarf and holding a cane in his hand – a cane which glowed blue at its end. And surrounding him was a crowd of humans, clad in formal clothing. She took a step back, but Loki raised an eyebrow.

"No, Eva. Come here. Come to your King."

The humans all watched her, their stares instantly judging her. Loki's expression was serene, but a hunger lingered in the depths of his emerald eyes, and she found her feet slowly moving closer and closer to him. A smile toyed with his mouth, and she suddenly wanted to remember that curving of his lips, wanted to never forget it. Why had she thought of running? He was familiar, he was safe, he was  _Loki_.

She reached him, and his free hand curved around her waist, thumb lightly caressing the skin beneath the folds of the dress. She looked down at him, unsure, and he laughed softly.

"Is she not delightful?" he remarked to the crowd. "So beautifully loyal to her King." He leant the cane against the side of the bench and lifted her onto his lap. She found herself holding him by his shoulders, and the smile was still there, still present upon his countenance. His thumb brushed her lower lip, and she pressed a light kiss to it, almost reverent.

"Good girl," he murmured. Her cheeks pinked, and he grasped her by her cheek, bringing her forwards. His lips claimed hers, and she sighed at the sheer dominance behind them. She willingly succumbed, and his laughter echoed in her mind.

_Mine_.

A sharp sting to her neck, and she gasped. But the pain was soothed by his tongue, and he gently sucked at the bite. She was utterly pliant in his hands, and though she could not see it, his eyes gleamed in triumph, and he withdrew to inspect his handiwork. A pleased smile shaped his expression, and his gaze burned into hers, searing her soul.

"You are mine. Only mine. I will take you, and claim you as my own. I will use you and possess you and ensure that no other man touches you again. You will love me as you have loved no other, and I will  _never let you go._ "

* * *

Eva jolted awake, and she sat up, breathing hard. Terror flooded her, and her hand shot up to her neck.

_It was only a dream, it was only a dream –_

She stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom, switching on the light. She nearly ran to the nearest mirror and frantically swept her hair aside, her eyes flitting over her skin.

Nothing.

She nearly cried with relief, and leant against the sink, shaking. He had kissed her. She had willingly let him lift her, let him sit her on his lap like a common whore. And in front of all those people!

She felt cheap. Used.  _Filthy_. And it hadn't even been real.

But oh god, had it felt like it. She could still see his eyes, hear his butter-soft promises, feel his lips against hers.

"You cannot deny you enjoyed it."

In frustration she snatched up the ceramic toothbrush holder, whirled around and hurled it at him. Her aim was perfect, and if he hadn't caught the pot, it would have hit his face. He placed the pot on the side, merely raising an eyebrow, and she was reminded of that as she had stood before him, before his crowd of mortals.

"Your aim is  _exceptional_ ," he mused, with a slight tilt of his lips. "Not bad at all, my dear lady."

"Next time it will be a knife," she seethed. "Get out. Get out right now, or I swear to god I will –"

"Do what?" He laughed, and fury swelled within her. She reached for something else to throw at him, but he strode over and gripped her wrist before her fingers could close on anything. "Now, now. Temper, my dear."

"Let go of me," she spat, struggling to free herself. He sighed, and casually slammed her up against the wall. She winced at the pain which spiked down her body, and his hand gripped her jaw, forcing her to look at him. The hatred in her eyes was delicious to him, and he could see something which she would never admit. Something which both amused and satisfied him.

"Do not lie to your King," he said softly. "I know you took pleasure in it. The state of your bed-linen alone proves that. The way you writhed in your bed, tossed, turned. I did promise I would make you do so. But as for the screams… they will have to wait."

"Where was it?" she whispered. "The hall; where was it?"

"Stuttgart, Germany. One of the very first places I conquered. Their screams and then their subjugation was so very wonderful." His smile was obscene, and his next words even more so.

"You did look exquisite, my dear. As my mortal should."

" _Your_  mortal?  _Ha_!" Scorn coated her tone. "I am no more yours than Aidan is my biological sibling."

"Shall we check?" He pretended to think. "You are in  _my_  residence, wearing the clothes  _I_  have provided, eaten the food  _my_  chefs prepared, enjoyed  _my_  hospitality… And I see you are wearing one of the negligées which  _I_ chose for you. Now. Would you like to amend that statement,  _lítteinn_?"

"I will not be kept by you like some  _pet_  for your amusement!" she snapped, flushing. The soft, near-sheer robe she wore was a dark blue, reaching to just above her knees. It had called to her, and, being too tired to stumble around for her own night clothes, she had pulled the negligée from its hanger and thrown it on. She should have known it would land her in trouble. "Keep your hands off me."

"With pleasure," he murmured, releasing her instantly. She stared at him, surprised he had acquiesced.

And then it hit her. A burst of pain throughout her body, so raw and white-hot that a hoarse gasp tore itself from her throat, and her vision blurred. She clutched desperately at the wall behind her, fighting a scream of agony, and Loki's silken chuckle lingered in her ears.

And then it was over, as quickly as it had come. She felt cold tile under her fingers, and realised, horrified, that she was on her knees before him. She blinked as her vision cleared, and in desperation scrambled to her feet, staring at him as if she were a caged animal.

Loki smiled knowingly, and in a single second he slammed her back against the wall, his gaze burning with all manner of sinister emotion. Madness danced in his eyes like moonlight on water, and she suddenly saw how effortlessly seduced one might be by it. It was madness, yes, but it was so easily slipped into, and so easily revelled in. Here was a man who had always trodden the line between good and evil, and then the latter had taken him for its own.

With never a mind to give him back.

"Your heart is racing," he noted, a sickening smirk shaping his mouth. "But from what, I wonder?"

She did not answer for a moment, simply looking at him with her ever-careful regard.

"I would be a fool not to fear you," she said quietly. "But I will never give you what you want. You will never have my total surrender. Never. I promise you that now."

His hand grasped her chin, and he tilted it up, his expression cold. His eyes barely flickered as they took in every inch of her defiance. For one hideous moment she thought he would break her neck.

But then he laughed. His hand curved to run down her jaw and halt at her neck. His thumb stroked across her pulse, and he leant close to her, his breath warm on the shell of her ear.

"Remember the dream,  _lítteinn_. You came to me  _willingly_. You thought me  _safe_."

"Mind games," she whispered. "False. Lies."

"But it will be true soon enough," he murmured. "And it is there that I do not lie. You know this. You will come to me. You will admit that freedom is a falsehood. And then you will kneel." His lips pressed against the hollow under her ear.

"I would rather be slain by you than fall to my knees in deference." Her voice was a ghost, and he smiled against her skin.

"Alas, I cannot grant you that. My plans for you require, unfortunately, that you remain alive."

Her blood, which should have run cold, instead burned, burned with an intensity she had never yet known, and unthinkingly she sighed.

There was a pause, and then his soft laugh sounded, causing her to realise, horrified, what had just occurred. She struggled to push him away, outraged, and he chuckled once more, his fingers skirting up her leg.

"No. Stop."

"You would think to command your King?" His tone was nothing more than amused as he pulled back to look her in the eye. She glared.

"I will not be one of your mortal whores. Not I."

"No, you are not a whore, Eva. You are but a plaything. Besides, I have not yet taken you to my bed."

"And you never will," she hissed. "Not now. Not ever. Now let me go. Go and fuck one of your harem if you must."

She heard the slap before she felt it, and the pain stung her cheek like a thousand needles, leaving her gasping, her skin throbbing and scarlet.

"You still believe I have concubines," he mused, as casually as if they were in a normal conversation, as if the slap had never occurred. " _Fascinating_. Is that the culture here, that your monarchs have harlots and playthings?"

"No. Not in most countries. But since you don't come from here, I wouldn't expect you to adhere to our customs," she replied, wincing from the strike, resisting the urge to cup her cheek.

"Quite right," he said softly. "I will do as I like."

Suddenly, the two of them were stood in a hall, one she recognised instantly. She glared at him.

"Stuttgart?  _Really_? I am not even dressed properly."

The look he gave her was equal parts amused and dissolute.

"You are fine as you are,  _lítteinn_."

"Will you stop calling me that?"

"It is unlikely."

She realised he was wearing the exact outfit that he wore in the dream, and the cane was even in his hand, being flipped lazily by its owner. The smile he wore was languid, indulgent, perhaps, and he sat upon the bench, looking up at her as though he wanted to pull her strings and have her dance his tune. Amusement was an emotion that never seemed to completely leave his face; even in his darker moments, it was there.  _His constant_ , she reasoned.  _He is innately mischievous and therefore finds all manner of things humorous._

"I did not bring you here for psychological observations, Eva."

"Then why?" She walked, her bare feet light on the icily-cold stone flooring, and her hand curved around the head of one of the marble bulls. "Why here? If you simply craved conversation, your quarters – or indeed mine – would have sufficed."

She could see the morning light streaming through the stained glass windows, and a yearning for freedom gripped her. But she pushed that urge away – it was pointless. He would read her mind before she could even move a step.

He turned his head, his eyes betraying nothing, only appraising her as she paused by the bull's head. His gaze rooted her to the spot. It was chilling and tempting and unreadable all at once. It was as if he were –

"Stop that," she said sharply. He raised an eyebrow.

"I do not believe there is anything to stop."

"You were searching my mind for something. It's not yours to look through."

They were interrupted by a security guard walking in. He froze at the sight of the two of them, and his face paled as he recognised Loki and began apologising profusely in German.

"Es ist in Ordnung. Gehen Sie zurück zu Ihrem Büro," Eva spoke calmly before Loki could speak. The guard blinked at her, before nodding and backing out of the room.

"My, my. You speak of  _my_  authority, when it is clear that  _you_  are just as commanding. Ordering the man to return to his office? How arrogant you are, little mortal."

Slowly, she revolved to face him, her countenance cold and somewhat irritated.

"You would have scared him to death. Something which I don't doubt you're capable of."

He chuckled, and his cane vanished as he rose lithely to his feet and stepped closer to her.

"How many languages do you speak, Eva?"

"You tell me."

"Clever girl." His finger ran down her lips. "So far I have evidence of three. Are there more?"

She smiled dryly. "You seem to ask rather idiotic things, Silvertongue. Why bait me when you already have your answers?"

She moved away from him, balancing on her toes as she danced elegantly out of his reach. As she stretched up, the hem of her negligée rose a little, exposing her toned thighs. She was fluid as she deftly made her way along the hall. It was something she did to keep calm; if her body was at ease, it helped her mind. And it was working – until a hand curved around her waist and pulled her back against soft fabrics and a hard, muscled chest.

"Quite the graceful little thing, aren't you?" he mused. "Who taught you to dance, my dear?"

"My instructor," she replied, her heart pounding once more. His hand slid to her hip, feeling the bone under soft skin and layers of satin. His fingers flexed once, before withdrawing, and she felt the solidity of his body leave her. She turned to find him watching her, and he gestured.

"Dance for me."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"One should not question their King, Eva. Dance for me."

"There is no music."

"You do not need any. I know the tune you have in your mind. Use that."

She looked at him, long and hard, before turning away from him. She began to move, light on her feet, balancing on the balls of them. She began to spin, slowly, and Loki studied every inch of her as she moved as fluidly as water, from the curve of her spine to the shape of her waist and her slender legs. It was obvious she had had lessons for several years. She spun and balanced and leapt and arched, and Loki could not tear his eyes away.

Eva was almost in a trance, the music swarming her mind, the steps as easy as if she had performed them the day before. She could feel the tune lulling her, making her its puppet. She had no control over her limbs, she was being pulled by every note, commanded by the tempo, the swelling of the violins.

A hand closed on her wrist, and she found herself against Loki's chest. She inhaled, wrenched out of her reverie, and the look in her eyes was startled. His hand released her wrist, and it skimmed her waist to press against the small of her back. His other rested against her flushed cheek, and he tilted her backwards, leaning over her. His breath licked her collarbone like a flame, causing her own to hitch, and he smiled.

"Not bad,  _lítteinn_. Not bad at all."

He pulled her upright as he straightened, and she focused on his clothing. Gone were the overcoat and the scarf, leaving a crisp white shirt with silver cufflinks. His long hair framed his face, settling on his shoulders, and his gaze was heated. His thumb traced her cheekbone, and a soft moue of amusement fell from his lips.

"My mortal.  _Mine_. I have barely touched you, yet see how you blush, how you gasp. Do you still believe you can resist me?"

She made to strike him, outraged, but he caught her hand easily. A grin shaped his mouth, and his words only served to fuel her anger.

"Fight me, will you? Come on – show me wrath! Show me rage!"

She slammed her hands into his chest, tearing at his shirt, pulling and tugging and glaring and kissing –

She froze.

His lips were soft but assertive, laced with a lazy dominance that had her near-sighing. Her will was almost crushed by his skill alone, but a shred of sense remained, and she stumbled back, breaking the kiss, horrified.

He was watching her, the cat who got the cream, and his eyes were dancing with mirthful satisfaction. She retreated, trembling, and he only advanced, his strides longer than her steps, easily reaching her before she could run. She halted, her eyes wide with fear, and his fingers caressed her face almost tenderly.

"My little lioness," he whispered. "What a  _pleasure_  it shall be to break you. To bend you to my will. To make you realise that I am the only one who can fulfil all that you desire. All that, and  _more_."

He suddenly turned, walking away from her and picking up his overcoat and scarf. The glance he sent her was wicked.

"If you stand like that all day, they will start to wonder if it is another piece of art I commissioned, and they will explore you as I so plan to do. Could you bear that, my dear? Their hands all over you, touching and pressing and stroking and pushing? No. You could not. And do you know why?"

He was abruptly in front of her again, and he leant down to her ear.

"Because the only touch you will want is mine."

He straightened, and began to stroll away, the cane appearing in his hand and being casually twirled by its owner.

"Come,  _lítteinn_ ," he called. "Your King wishes to return to his abode, And where he goes, you will follow…"

She stared, and then, hating every second of it, she walked.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Eva awoke to sunlight streaming through the windows, and she stretched her legs, nestling into the softness of the mattress, the pillow cushioning her head perfectly. It was by far the best bed she had ever slept in, and she was in no mind to leave it. She lazily rolled on to her back, and glanced up at the ceiling, stone roses adorning it, vines twisting and tangling around the edges –

Her eyes narrowed.

_That isn't my bedchamber ceiling._

She sat up, her heart thundering with alarm. Where the hell was she? She swung her legs out of bed, and stood. Her nightgown – soft cream, with lace edging – fell to her thighs, and she glanced around her. She was in a high-ceilinged, soft-yellow-painted, stone room, with French doors and what seemed like antique furniture. Her gaze fell upon a pale gold satin robe at the end of the bed, and she slipped it on, tying it loosely around her waist. She walked to the open French doors, the curtains billowing, and she looked out.

Her gaze was one of astonishment.

" _Paris_ ," she whispered. "But… why?  _How_?"

There was a knock, and her head whipped around as one of the doors opened. A tall, dark-haired woman walked in, along with another carrying a tray laden with food and drink. She nodded towards Eva.

"Good morning, mademoiselle. Seigneur Loki asks that you refresh and replenish your strength. You are free to walk about the city if you wish, only that you return before evening to dine with him." Her soft French accent added a pleasant lilt to the woman's voice, and Eva inclined her head.

"As he wishes. But could you tell me something…?"

"Jeanne. And of course, mademoiselle."

"How… how did I get here?"

Jeanne's eyes were unreadable. "You were brought here last night, mademoiselle. Seigneur Loki had business to attend to here, and said that you were to remain near him."

Now,  _this_  was interesting. To remain near him? As if he required her? Was she Loki's fix?

The thought made her feel ill. She swallowed and returned her focus to Jeanne. The woman was watching her, her brow creased in concern.

"Are you alright, mademoiselle?" Jeanne asked softly. Eva nodded, attempting a small smile.

"I am. Thank you."

"There is breakfast, if you would like it. There are clothes for you in the wardrobe and dressing room, and of course all the necessities are in the bathroom. Is there anything else you require, mademoiselle?"

"The city is thriving under his rule," Eva murmured in disbelief. " _How_?  _Why_? You should be fighting back!"

Jeanne did not immediately answer, but when she did, it was not to Eva's question.

"Do not forget. Before evening."

The woman turned on her heel and left, and Eva pressed her fingers to her temple, circling the skin, fighting to urge to shout in annoyance. She didn't want to be here. She couldn't even remember how she arrived. All she could recall was falling asleep in the bed in her suite, after Stuttgart, and suddenly she had woken up in a different room entirely.

She glanced at the clock by the bed. Ten in the morning. She guessed it had been late at night when she had been taken to Germany. And then back to America. Now France. It almost made her head spin; three different countries in the space of a few hours was a feat she was sure few mortals had ever accomplished.

She walked warily over to the breakfast tray on the table, and her mouth watered at the smell of fresh coffee and warm pastries. She sat and drank a little of the brew, savouring its rich taste, before sampling the various tartlets and cakes there, her tongue feeling as though it were in seventh heaven. For a while she simply sat, taking pleasure in the stillness, the peace. Even the noise of traffic and fluent French soothed her. It was normal. Safe. Loki was in the city, no doubt, but he would not be in her presence for a few hours yet. She had time.

She noticed the small envelope resting against the jug of cream, and she picked it up, opening it and sliding the note from its paper prison.

_I do hope the suite is to your taste. Should you wish to wander about the city, do so. If you should require money for whatever purpose, it will not matter. No-one will ask for it. You are mine, and they will recognise that, on a subconscious level. Enjoy Paris, lítteinn. I will see you come the evening._

She let the letter drop to the floor, disgusted. She hated how he believed he owned her, how she was his plaything for his own twisted amusement. But it kept her family safe. Kept her alive – yet if she had to die to ensure her family's survival, then so be it.

Although if that happened, she was certain they would meet their maker whatever he promised.

Eva sighed, and got to her feet, pulling her robe around her.

Quickly, she showered and dressed, keeping her clothes stylish: a simple black shift dress, dark red court shoes. She  _was_  in Paris, after all. Not that the wardrobe contained anything but fashionable garments. She supposed Loki wanted 'his mortal' to appear of the utmost elegance. And she did love tasteful clothing, even if it was provided for by a megalomaniacal alien.

She left the suite and walked along the lobby, taking the lift down to the ground floor. She stepped out of the hotel, and glanced down the streets before making her way to a taxi. The footman opened the door for her, and she thanked him softly, smiling.

"La Louvre, s'il vous plaît," she said to the driver, who immediately drove off down the infamously busy roads. She sat back against the seat, gazing out at the buildings and the people as she passed them. It was a peaceful kind of chaos, the bustling streets and the angry drivers. Simple, easy. As it  _should_  be.

But it never was.

Half an hour later, she was wandering about the Louvre, letting the atmosphere calm her. She had always loved art galleries, and the Louvre was one of her favourites, though she visited rarely.

She found herself meandering towards the Monet paintings, and the familiar sight of water lilies instantly soothed her troubled soul. She stood there, a faint smile on her lips. The colours blended perfectly, and every intricate detail seemed to draw her in.

"Beautiful, aren't they?"

Eva half-turned to see an elderly Frenchman standing beside her with the same awed smile upon his face. She nodded, her eyes alight with happiness.

"Oui, they are magnificent," she replied sincerely. "He is one of my favourite artists. Unparalleled."

"Look how the light is caught on the water," the gentleman continued in French, a ray of enthusiasm showing through his veneer of calm. "That is a rare skill indeed."

Their conversation ran on for what seemed like an age, and she relished it. It was the first time she had truly spoken to another besides Loki since she had gone to New York, and it both challenged and stimulated her mind. She was a naturally sociable person, and she loved debating opinions and beliefs; she thrived on intellectual discussion.

Eva moved with the gentleman throughout various exhibits, learning more about him as they went. She was charmed by his easy manners and friendly disposition, and the chatter was free and open. She did not realise it was almost four o' clock before the gentleman glanced at his watch, and announced somewhat regretfully that he had to depart. And so he did, with kisses to her cheeks and a warm smile.

But then a wave of both apprehension and anticipation hit her. She would have to return back to the suite within the next two hours, else Loki would begin to…

She didn't even want to contemplate it. Grimacing, she took a last longing look at the Vermeer collection on the walls, and turned to leave.

She did not notice the mortal woman watching her go.

* * *

"I understand that you travelled by a taxicab." His voice was calm, but there was no mistaking the edge of disgust to his tone. Eva leant back in her seat, raising an eyebrow.

"Is there a problem? It is how I would usually travel here, since I have no understanding of most of their public transport methods, and I do not have my car."

He took a sip from his wineglass, his gaze never leaving her face.

"Wherever I take you, there will be a private car at your disposal," he said quietly. "I will not have my mortal sullying herself in those hideous vehicles."

"That will not be necessary," she replied steadily. "The last thing I want to do is draw attention to myself and be known to the public as 'your mortal'."

He laughed softly. "That will happen, soon enough. You cannot hide forever. Besides, I must have some form of amusement whilst resolving disputes and conflicts."

"Ah, so I  _am_  your fix. Hm." Her eyes glittered. "Intriguing."

His smile was dry. "You are not an addiction, Eva, do not flatter yourself. Who knows, I may tire of you soon. And then it will be over for you. I may regret it. I most likely will not."

"You won't tire of me," she replied levelly, in the tongue she spoke only privately with him. "Where would you find another speaker of this language? Oh, universities of course, museums, Scandinavia. But I doubt they'd refuse to kneel as I have. It'd be too easy a victory for you. Not even a decent challenge. And that's what drives you, isn't it? You need to be stimulated intellectually, else you will go mad with boredom. Drinking and feasting with bawdy wenches is not your idea of entertainment; only a conversation or a book will thrill you."

It was evening now in Paris; the two of them were sat at a table on the balcony, glasses of wine on the table, the jewels at her throat glinting. Loki's face was illuminated by the candles on the table; his eyes danced in the incandescence, the pale expanse of his chiselled jaw and neck highlighted and hollowed in turn by light and shadow.

"You profess to know me," came his amused tones.

"Only what I can discern. You hide a great deal, Loki – any fool could see that. Of your outward nature, your façades? I know much. But of the man behind the mask?" Eva allowed herself a cynical smile. "I know little. What Thor has told me aids my study somewhat, but your identity as a jötunn and the son of both Laufey and Odin gives me scarcely enough to go on. Except, of course, as to why you are so bitter and twisted."

He had gone very still. His eyes barely flickered, but they pierced with an intensity anyone would find chilling. He leant forwards, and she forced herself to stay where she was, to not recoil.

"Do not talk of things you cannot hope to comprehend." It was low, dark, and would have made her shiver had she not fought to control the instinct. Instead she drained her the last of the wine in her glass and rose to her feet.

"You forget I have an adopted brother. I comprehend it well. And you should know that your attempts to make Thor hate you will never work. He is your brother; he will never hate you, just as I will never hate Aidan. So I suggest you stop trying. Because he will always love you, no matter what you do."

With that, she left the table, stepping back into the hotel room.

She did not hear him come up behind her, but she knew he was there. She rarely jumped at his presence; she was not a person with a nervous disposition.  _Which, quite frankly, is a miracle – anyone normal would be shaking like mad around him._

"We will return to New York in the morning."

"As you wish. Now leave so I can get undressed."

"Do not order your King about."

"I'll do as I want, Loki."

His hand closed on her hip, and she inwardly swore as she realised he'd felt the slim blade concealed under the dress. His fingers paused, and then she inhaled as he took hold of the fabric and tore, lengthening the considerable side-slit even more, exposing her thigh completely. He slipped the knife from its holster, tutting.

"Now, where did you get this, lítteinn?"

It was a thin thing, but able to do damage. She flinched as she heard the snap of the blade breaking in two and the sound of the pieces hitting the floor.

"I am afraid you will have to try a lot harder to even attempt to harm me, my dear. I am not easily taken by surprise – I'm sure you've heard of Clint Barton's attempt to shoot me with an arrow. He failed, naturally."

"Believe me, someone will succeed," she hissed. He chuckled in her ear, and his lips barely brushed her shoulder.

"Oh, I rather doubt that," he murmured, skimming across her exposed thigh with his fingertips. "There is no-one to challenge me."

"There will be," she replied harshly, and she slammed her elbow into his stomach. But she met solid muscle, and her heart froze as he grasped her arm and spun her around, almost dislocating it in the process. She bit her lip to keep from crying out at the flare of pain, choosing to stare up at him defiantly.

"What was it I said to you about words rather than physicality?" he said dryly. "You will never manage to even mildly hurt me, Eva. In comparison to you weak mortals, I am indestructible. I would cease your useless attempts at injury, if I were you. They will yield you no fruit, lítteinn."

"Let go of me."

He chuckled, smooth as chocolate but sinful as spilled blood, and he tilted her head to the side, pressing his mouth to her throat and feeling her pulse under his lips.

"Stop," she whispered. His hand slid to the top of her thigh.

"Never," he breathed, and his teeth grazed the sensitive spot on her neck. He relished the gasp his action elicited from her, and his fingertips circled the exposed skin of her leg. "I will  _never_  stop, not until I have you on your knees.  _Willingly_. And it will happen, Eva. Oh, it will happen. Tomorrow, a week from now, one, two, perhaps even three months. I will be impressed if you do last that long, though I doubt you will. Look at you,  _trembling_ , and all it has taken is a kiss to your throat and a touch to your thigh. Are all mortals as easily seduced as you?"

She did not answer him, and his hand slid upwards to her waist. He lightly squeezed, before releasing her. She almost fled from him, only turning to face him when she was on the other side of the room. Her dress was torn, her hair mussed, and her cheeks were splashed with spots of crimson. Loki almost licked his lips.

"Goodnight, Eva."

She did not wish him likewise, and she left the lounge, slamming her bedroom doors shut behind her. He could hear her sink to the floor, though she did not cry. He briefly debated tampering with her dreams when she would be sleeping, but decided against it. He needed her looking refreshed for the morning.

After all, she was his. His mortal.

And soon the world would know it.

* * *

"His Grace asks if you are ready, mademoiselle."

Eva sighed, and looked for the last time at her reflection in the mirror. She was dressed in a dark blue sheath dress and black patent court shoes. Her hair was perfectly done, her makeup subtle. Jeanne had told Eva that Loki specifically wanted her to dress elegantly, and, biting back a sharp retort, Eva had acquiesced.

She walked from the bedroom to the lounge, where Jeanne stood, patiently waiting. The assistant nodded, as if in approval, and gestured.

"If you will follow me, please."

Jeanne led her out of the hotel and a footman opened the door of a sleek charcoal-grey Mercedes. She rolled her eyes _. Clearly Loki has a penchant for these goddamn vehicles…_

"Indeed I do. Now please get in. We've a plane to board, my dear," came his silken voice from inside the car. She sighed, but slid in, the door closing smoothly behind her. The Mercedes drove off, and she turned her head to glance at the god sitting beside her. He had shunned a seatbelt; well, she supposed he could easily survive a car crash.

"I thought you disdained all Midgardian transport," she remarked dryly. He smiled, and the look in his eyes was all too knowing. She inwardly cursed – she knew that expression. Her eyes narrowed. "What are you planning, Loki?"

He laughed. "Patience, lítteinn. You will find out soon enough."

And as it happened, she did.

Her heart sank as she saw the first few.

"No. No, no, no." She stared at Loki, whose smirk was obscenely satisfied. "You  _bastard_! I'm not going out there!"

The car rounded onto the open tarmac where the private plane was situated, and she groaned.

Paparazzi. Everywhere.

_Oh, no._

"I refuse to leave this car," she said through gritted teeth. Loki smiled, and ran his thumb along her cheek.

"You have no choice, Eva."

"But  _why_?" she cried, her eyes dilated in horror. "Why would you do this?"

"I?  _I_  did nothing. I am King of this realm; any time my whereabouts change, this planet's media seem to swarm like flies. Now, be graceful and gracious like the good girl I know you are."

The car had come to a halt, and the doors opened. The flashes, clicks and shouts of journalists filled Eva's ears, and, swallowing her nerves, she got out of the vehicle.

The reaction was immediate. She was almost overwhelmed by the press, and it wasn't until Loki reached her that she felt relief.

_Wait. Relief?_

_Shit._

She felt fucking  _protected_  by him!

Pushing that horrific realisation aside, she let Loki guide her through the mob, his grip firm yet surprisingly gentle on her forearm. He steered her along, calm as anything, and she had to marvel at his composure. He swept past the crowd with consummate ease, and she kept her face carefully devoid of any outward emotion. The papers and the internet would be buzzing like hell within a few hours, if not minutes. The last thing she wanted was to show her true feelings.

Now, of course, she knew why he had wanted her to 'dress elegantly'.

"Naturally," he murmured, so only she could hear. "I could not have you shaming me, could I?"

Her cheeks pinked a little, but her visage remained passive as they reached the stairway to the entrance of the plane. Loki gestured with a lithe flick of his hand.

"After you, my dear."

She ascended the steps, her hand sliding up the rail, and the minute she was inside, she sat in the nearest seat and closed her eyes.

"Ms Manning? Are you alright?" came the soft voice of a stewardess. Loki spoke then.

"Leave her to me."

Eva guessed the stewardess must have bowed her head and left the area, because the next thing she heard was Loki's accent in her ear.

"Is my little lioness so easily frightened by crowds?"

"I dislike having my personal space invaded," she replied curtly, eyes still shut. "Particularly when I had no prior warning that it was going to occur."

There was silence, and then she felt his hand lift hers, pressing a kiss to the back. Her eyes flew open, and his smile was triumphant. She pulled her hand away, and he chuckled, his gaze piercing hers.

"Since when did you act like a gentleman?" she asked him warily.

"I'm offended. Unlike most of these brutes known as men, I was raised properly," he replied, taking the seat beside her. "Now do prepare yourself; I believe the plane is due to leave."

* * *

Eva had never been so glad to see the suite in her life. After being near-mobbed by the New York media both at the airport and outside the Chrysler, and the seven hour flight, she was exhausted. Loki had swiftly guided her through the crowd of journalists and photographers, and had then shifted them both to her quarters, much to her relief. Without saying a word, she had run straight to the bathroom, slamming the doors shut and running a bath. Somehow she still looked presentable, even after all that travelling.

It wasn't long before the bath was full and steaming, and she quickly stripped, before climbing into the tub large enough for four. She slid down, the bubbles and the water covering her body, and she simply lay there, at peace, her hair fanning out around her. The water gently lapped at her skin, and she closed her eyes, a faint smile curving her mouth.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Her eyes flew open, and instinctively she sat up, the water splashing around her. Loki was sitting on the far edge of the tub, and too late she realised her mistake. Her hair, while long, could not cover her breasts, and, her face flushing, she scooped up the nearest mass of bubbles to hide what he had already seen.

_Seen, and liked, judging by the look in his eyes. Pervert._

"Please leave," she said through gritted teeth. "A gentleman should not burst in on a lady bathing."

"True. But there are occasions where I prefer to deny that title and do as I like."

She had no answer to that, and settled for simply leaning back in the tub, glaring at him. His lips quirked, and he placed one hand on the bath's rim.

"You handled the press well. I'm impressed; I half expected you to yell abuse at them."

"It crossed my mind."

"I know. But it was only briefly. I must admit, you dealt with them gracefully, though I could sense your unease."

"Are you awaiting a show of gratitude for steering me through them?" she asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow. He smiled.

"No need; I felt it earlier."

"Of course you did." She sighed, and noted that he had changed his clothing. Gone was the full, formal suit, and in its place were black trousers and a simple white Nehru-collar shirt. His fingers lazily trailed the water, and she drew her knees up a little. "Why were you in Paris?"

"Politics, my dear Eva," was his answer. She rolled her eyes.

"I gathered that. Specifically, though – why?"

"Political unrest, then."

She raised an eyebrow. "Really? In Paris? I would have thought they valued their capital enough not to challenge you."

He laughed. "They do seem devoted to their architecture. But it was not amongst the public to which I was referring. Their government was showing signs of mutiny. Clearly my message was not evident enough the first time."

Her eyes narrowed as the words sunk in. "Who did you kill?"

"Not a one. I simply reiterated my previous warning – should they attempt a rebellion, the reaction will be swift and unyielding. I told them that if I sent the Chitauri in full force, their beloved  _cité_ will fall to ruins. That did  _not_  appeal to them, predictably."

"No, I wouldn't have thought so. Especially since you destroyed the Eiffel Tower, the goddamn  _symbol_  of France."

"That structure was aesthetically hideous. Of course it had to be destroyed."

She bit back a lashing retort, and ran a hand through her wet hair. "So long as you do not touch my country."

"England? No. They were quick to kneel – a wiser nation than others. Your Prime Minister is not feeling particularly mutinous, it must be said."

"If the Chitauri damage the museums or the monuments – of any state, not just England – I will kill them. You may not appreciate our heritage, but we do. And I'm sure the stone carvings of you and your non-existent wife and children would amuse you."

"Those in particular are meaningless now. I sit here before you, plain evidence of the god himself; I hardly think relics and myths are needed now."

"Oh, you'd make scholars go mad," she muttered. "God help them if you ever set the records straight. No wife, no children, brother of Thor and not Odin,  _adopted son_  of Odin… they'd have a field day."

"Then it is well that I never shall," he said calmly. "Leaving them guessing is much more entertaining, don't you think?"

"I should point out that no-one's ever come to a solid conclusion when trying to figure you out, so I doubt this will change anything."

"Excellent." He leant forwards, and she stared in amazement as he  _didn't_  fall into the bath, as he somehow kept his balance. "Now tell me, my dear… have  _you_  come to any conclusions? What has your curious mind determined?"

"Only that I should never have come to you in the first place." Her voice was terse, hiding her fear and perverse anticipation. "Because I know I will not get out of this alive."

All of a sudden he reappeared much closer, yet still sitting on the rim of the tub. His hand held her cheek, and he canted his head, eyes inscrutable.

"You truly believe that, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. And if I were a more naïve human, I would bargain my life to keep my family alive and unharmed. But I know promises mean nothing to you, Silvertongue."

He reached out to run his fingers along her collarbone, and she tensed.

"Personal space," she reminded him coldly. "Stop it."

His smile was wicked.

"Ah, but look. You are blushing."

"What else would I  _do_? I have a strange man – who just  _appeared_  in my bathroom – sitting on the edge of the tub and just oh so casually stroking my skin. Do you have any idea how  _creepy_  that is?"

His fingers toyed with a lock of her hair, seemingly lost in thought.

"Tell me, what think you of anarchy?"

She was momentarily thrown, but her wits quickly kicked in.

"Of total freedom? I advocate it. But anarchy which could descend into chaos? No. There must be certain laws, decided by the people. Democracy is what I believe in. It's their country, their lives. They should not be told how to live. Nobody should."

"But if it is for the good of that nation?" he argued. "What then?"

"You mean if the country was crumbling? Like Russia in the early 1900s?"

"That could be one example."

Her brow creased in confusion. "Since when do you know about Russian history?"

A flicker of mirth broke through his serious façade. "Call it research, my dear. Now please, continue."

"If the state was falling apart, then a strong leader is needed, of course. People respond well to good leadership, that's been proven. But if that leader becomes too powerful for their own good, then that's when the trouble begins. I mean, look at Hitler. He may have helped Germany get back on its feet, but what happened next? He caused the next world war – and Germany was almost in the same situation it was at the end of the first world war in 1918. He couldn't keep hold of his empire. It was too much power for one man. Just as Earth will prove too much for you. We're not meant to be led by just one, Loki. There are too many countries, too many people. Too many voices. How do you expect to hear every one of them?"

"Did you not see Paris?" he reasoned, with a smile that was genuine, neither mocking nor dark. "The city was  _thriving_.  _Alive_. You cannot deny that my rule is succeeding, Eva. It has been months since I first took hold of your beloved realm. And it has never been more prosperous."

"But its people fear you."

"They will not, in time. They will learn that I can be as merciful as I can merciless."

"And where do I stand?"

His smile returned to the dark smirk she knew so well.

"Oh, I grant you no mercy at all, lítteinn. I don't believe I ever will."

"Then we understand each other."

"Perfectly." His hand held her jaw, and he leant forwards to kiss her, his lips unyielding. To Eva's horror, she found her body heating up, and it wasn't due to the temperature of the water. Her hands moved to push him away, but she found her fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt, keeping him close. She felt his chest reverberate with his amusement, and his own fingers tangled in her hair, the slight tug making her gasp in surprise.

_Mine_. The single word echoed in her mind, and all her defences shot up. Her hand struck his cheek hard, and she broke the kiss. The look she gave him was both annoyed and aroused – and he was laughing at her, she realised. He hadn't even been hurt by the slap, only spurred on by it. His eyes were smouldering, and she almost lost her resolve there and then.

Almost. Not quite.

"No. Never. Now get out. I want to finish my bath in peace, you pervert."

He chuckled. "You were mine the minute you entered the chamber."

With that, he disappeared, leaving a horrified and bewildered mortal in his wake.

She groaned and threw the hot washcloth over her face. The nerve of that god was unbelievable. To enter her bathroom, tease her and then kiss her! It was no wonder she was so confused. They were dancing around each other; it was a game of cat and mouse – and the cat was hungry. She could see it in his eyes, the near-triumph, the smugness. He honestly believed he would have her.

_Ha_ , she thought.  _Well, he'll be disappointed._  Because there was no way she would let him that close. No. She could see the abyss, and the kiss had been one slip nearer to tumbling in. Yet she never would. She valued her life too much to throw it all away, to let  _him_  throw it all away. She would continue to dance around him, and she would do so on her own terms.

That, and it was purely to give him the figurative middle finger.

Although, the literal version was sorely tempting.

Actually…

It probably wasn't the best idea. She liked having all her digits, and she suspected Loki would have no problem with removing one or two.

"Bastard," she muttered. And then, just because it made her feel better, she yelled it.

" _Bastard_!"

There, let him take that as he would.

Sighing, she settled back in the water, taking refuge in what little peace she had left.


	7. Chapter 7

"That's it, darling. Yes. On your knees. Good."

She looked up at him upon that throne from where she sat, and his hand curved around her cheek. He was smiling, and the smile she gave in return was beatific. She was dressed in soft silver, her feet bare, and jewellery adorned her neck and wrists. His thumb stroked her skin, and when he spoke, his voice was gentle.

"And how is my little mortal?"

"Well enough, my lord," she answered. His eyes gleamed at that, and he gestured.

"Come. Sit."

She straddled him, and he kissed her, his hands holding her hips, caressing her curves. She arched up against him, and his hands moved to the front of her dress. The rip was loud in the silence of the hall, and she gasped, breaking the kiss to clutch at the tear, holding the material together. He raised an eyebrow, before effortlessly prising her hands away, much to her horror.

"No, Eva."

"We are not alone," she whispered, eyes wide with mortification. "There are guards here."

"Ah, they do not matter," he murmured. "Now come."

"No. Not here."

"Do not defy your King." His eyes darkened, but his voice was low, melting. "Come. Let me taste you."

His fingers delved beneath her dress, and her eyes widened as they sought their prize, a low cry falling from her lips as he teased and toyed –

* * *

Eva awoke with a gasp, and she found, to her shame, that her nub was throbbing. When she tentatively touched between her thighs, her fingers came away wet. She groaned, and rolled over. She wanted relief, but to know that Loki would be the one in her mind stopped her dead. There was no way in hell she would pleasure herself when thinking of him.

Sighing, she got up, glancing at the clock. Eight in the morning. No breakfast tray had been delivered, and for that she was grateful. She did not like having everything done for her; she intended to go out and buy something.

But then she remembered: no money. She was, essentially, a kept woman.  _Loki's_  woman. Her skin crawled. She had no freedom at all. Was that what he meant, when he said it was a falsehood?

She showered and dressed quickly. No smart dresses; Eva wore tight blue jeans and a black blouse, rolling up the sleeves. She left the suite, and wandered down the corridor, her black leather boots annoyingly loud on the tiled floor. She approached the nearest guard, who watched her curiously. She smiled.

"Could you direct me to the kitchens, please?"

He blinked, but nodded. "Certainly, ma'am." He told her the route, and she thanked him, before heading to the nearest elevator.

It wasn't long before she reached the kitchens, and the staff started in surprise, before frowning.

"Can I help you?" one of them, a tall, red-haired man asked.

"I was wondering if I could make myself some breakfast, if it's not inconvenient?"

Disbelief painted more than a few faces, but there were some expressions which showed recognition at seeing her in the doorway.

"And who are you, exactly?" the same man asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That's enough, Daniel. She's the King's lady," a woman declared sharply. "Don't you know that?"

The eyes of the man named Daniel widened, as did a fair few other pairs. Eva looked embarrassed, and she raised a hand, trying to placate them.

"Please. I'm not. He just finds me mildly amusing, that's all. I assure you I'm not his lady."

"Really? Because that's what you're known as around here," another woman said frankly, though her tone implied that 'lady' meant something quite different. Eva flushed, looking uneasy, and the first woman spoke up again.

"Leave her be. Come here, ma'am."

Grateful, Eva approached her, and the woman smiled gently.

"Now, what're you hungry for?"

"Just some fruit and cream, and a cup of tea," Eva said quietly, well-aware that every person in the room was watching her. The woman gestured to various refrigerators and cupboards.

"Well, help yourself. Plates are in there, cutlery in there. Have what you want."

"Thank you," Eva said with a smile. She busied herself with getting what she needed, and then sat at the table to eat. She was slicing an apple when one of the chefs turned up the TV, and the sound blared.

" _… yesterday in Paris, the King was seen with a young woman emerging from a car and boarding a private jet. How she is acquainted with His Grace is as yet unknown, but she is believed to be Eva Manning, twenty-five years old and hailing from England…_ "

Eva froze, and she paled.  _They know. The whole world knows._

_Just like he wanted. I know it. The bastard.  
_

"Eric, turn that damn thing off," the first woman snapped. The TV was silenced, and the woman came over to Eva. "Honey, are you okay?"

Eva ran a hand through her hair, sighing. "I will be. I'm sorry, I didn't get your name…?"

"Eunice," the woman replied, her brown eyes warm. "But that doesn't matter. You sure you'll be alright?"

Eva exhaled. "I hope so. At least my family will know I'm okay."

There was silence at that, and she realised just how much she'd given away. She bit her lip, and Eunice gently touched her shoulder.

"I'm sure. Now why don't you finish your breakfast, honey? You'll feel better."

Eva did, and the tea soothed her, calmed her initial panic. The raspberries tasted sweet on her tongue, mingled with the coolness of the cream. She ate quietly as the staff went about their business, though Eunice sat with her, talking and joking. Eva found she liked the woman, with her easy-going manner which immediately alleviated Eva's anxiety.

Someone turned on the radio, and a song sounded which everyone immediately recognised, and smiles emerged as well as tapping feet. Two of the chefs started jiving, and Eva watched, laughing and clapping, sitting on the table, pulling Eunice up to sit with her. The staff were dancing in seconds, all work abandoned, and one of them, a dark-curly-haired man with sparkling grey eyes held out a hand to Eva. She took it, grinning, and they began to dance, fast-paced, lively. She couldn't stop beaming as they stepped and jumped; she hadn't felt so free in months, not since Loki's victory. And even though the Norse god was mere floors above her, this felt like a completely different world.

" _Damn_ , she can dance!" someone shouted gleefully, and Eva laughed, spinning round and round, faster and faster –

She slammed straight into a hard, muscled chest.

The silence was immediate. She glanced up, and Loki raised an eyebrow.

"Having fun?"

"Yes. A concept you cannot comprehend, I am sure," she hit back, well aware the two of them had an audience. His eyes glittered, and she felt his fingers clasp her waist. She tensed. "Loki. No."

He chuckled, the sound slithering along her spine, raising hairs, sending electricity through her.

"You cannot defy me, Eva. You know what will happen if you do."

"He is but a child." Her voice was icy as she stared resolutely at him. "You harm even a hair on his head, and there will be hell to pay, I promise you that."

"And what would you do, hm? Stab me?" He laughed, a cruel, mocking shadow of humour. "You know what happened the last time you had a knife upon your person. You could not even draw it before I had broken it in two."

She glanced away, and his other hand tilted her chin.

"Look at me,  _lítteinn_."

"I will not."

" _Look at me_."

Hating herself, she turned her eyes to his, and the intensity of his gaze stunned her. His hand curved from her chin to her cheek, and suddenly they were no longer in the kitchens, but in a large, sunlit gallery, and she frowned.

"What are we –"

"Hush." His leg slipped between hers, and his foot slid hers across the floor. She recognised the move instantly, and her eyes snapped to his, her cheeks pinking.

_Argentine tango. Born out of the purlieus of Buenos Aires._

"You can't. You don't know the steps."

"Don't I?" he said with a smile, and pulled her to him. Her hands immediately went to his chest, one sliding downwards, and another lifted as if to touch his face, before her head turned away. It was smooth, easy, and he released her, pushing her from him. She strode away, before he grasped her wrist, spinning her back against him. Her spine was flush to his body, and his lips were at her throat. She gasped, and her hand reached back to cup his cheek, eyes fluttering closed.

This was not fair play - but then, Loki hardly ever played fair. He knew Eva was so easily seduced by dance, and the tango was the most seductive routine in the world. His fingers skimmed her waist, and she slid to the floor. His strong hands curved around her wrists, and he pulled her up, turning her in one swift movement so she faced him.

And so it began. Back and forth across the gallery, turning and walking and gliding and touching. It felt as though a thousand fires were burning up within her, and she could not pull away from his gaze. It was a dance of passion, but even this was different to any other tango she had practised. He was elegant, but dominant. If she walked away, he would pursue her, with a caress of her skin, a kiss to her pulse, a tightening on her wrist. Drawing her knee up to his hip, his hand lighting flames in her thigh. A skimming of her spine, a grazing of teeth against the skin of her collarbone. Letting her know precisely who was the master. Even as she turned her gaze from him, his hands and sleek, graceful movements would ensure her eyes always returned to his.

"Why?" she managed to gasp. He did not laugh, his expression was far too heated for that.

"Because, Eva… dance reaches you far more easily than any other method," he replied, his voice compelling as he lifted her effortlessly, before lowering her to the floor and pressing his mouth to the hollow below her ear. "It teases you… tantalises you… draws you in. Ruthlessly, relentlessly. And you are instantly enticed by it. You cannot break away."

They were still moving, his hands on her hips, his mouth claiming her throat. Her own hands were on his, keeping them there, an action which inwardly shocked her, yet she did not want to remove them. It felt…  _good_.

That woke her up, and her eyes widened. It was then he spun her around and claimed her lips with his, a deep, long, consuming kiss that left her head whirling. He broke away with a lazy smile, and his fingers brushed her cheek.

"And it was so easy, too."

He strode away, leaving her stunned, aroused and prickling with a newborn fury.

"I will  _never_  submit to you!" she half-shouted. His reply was a triumphant laugh, and a dry tone.

"Ah, but you already have. Did you like the dream, my dear?"

Outraged, she could do nothing but watch after him as he went, and as soon as the doors had shut behind him, she exhaled, and her fingers flexed. God, but he was skilled. The bastard. He knew exactly which keys to play, which strings to pull.

And she hated him all the more for it.

* * *

It had been days since they had danced. Loki had been called away on business, about forming the new government of Russia – or possibly, it was rumoured, to discuss plans about splitting the admittedly huge country into two, to make it more manageable. He had not returned to New York for days, and she was left alone. Thankfully, the kitchen staff were amiable, and she no longer felt quite so isolated. She was free to explore the residence - and explore she did. Corridors, halls, chambers. But it wasn't long before boredom crept in. She loathed being trapped, and, pushing away the voice that told her it was a  _very_  bad idea, she stepped out of the Chrysler building and began to walk.

She made it three streets before the press swarmed, and she simply walked back, fighting the urge to scream at them to leave her alone, to rip those goddamn cameras out of their hands. The guards ushered her inside the building, and she made it to the elevators before slumping against a wall, closing her eyes and exhaling.

"My lady?"

"I'm alright," she told the guard, her eyes still shut. "But at least I can sympathise with celebrities." She laughed mirthlessly. "Is the King still in Russia?"

It was a pointless question, and the both of them knew it.

"I believe so, my lady."

"Thank you."

"Are you sure I can't help you, ma'am?"

She opened her eyes, and she smiled tiredly at the tanned, handsome face before her, before shaking her head.

"No, but thank you." She pushed away from the wall, running a hand through her hair. She gave the guard another small smile before entering the elevator. As soon as she reached her suite, she collapsed on her bed, curling up. Her fingers clutched a pillow, and closed on a slip of paper.

_Lesson learned?_

She let out a cry of rage and crumpled the note up, hurling it to the floor.

* * *

Eight hours ahead and four and a half thousand miles away, Loki smiled. The girl's appearance in New York City had, predictably, hit international status. Every news channel was running the story. And it had been confirmed: she was indeed Eva Manning, twenty-five years-old, and British-born. English father, German mother. One younger brother.

Ah, Aidan. The little one. So innocent, so naïve. It was almost sickening. Loki hadn't met such purity in centuries.

What fun it would be to toy with the boy. After all, mind games were Loki's forte. And Aidan's consciousness was a clean slate.

If the press didn't break her, the manipulation of her brother's mind would.

"But Your Grace," a councillor protested, drawing Loki from his reverie, "to split Russia would mean that –"

"We're done." Loki's voice rang clear throughout the chamber, his eyes burning. "Your country will be split into two nations, the West and the East. Moscow and Vladivostok will be the capitals. I do believe the border has already been set, has it not? It will run directly through the Siberian Federal District."

There were murmurs of acquiescence, though they were uneasy, and Loki raised an eyebrow.

"Come, come, gentlemen. Your country is crumbling. Will you not let me raise it to be the glorious nation it once was?"

With that, Loki swept from the chamber, his mind returning to the mortal currently in the Chrysler. A much more pleasing train of thought. Spending days in Russia hammering out plans and agreements for the country with little amusement had grated on his consciousness. The government had been typically obtuse, and he was relieved that soon it would be dissolved and two new ones formed – with men of a higher intelligence and a better calibre. Russia had very clear class divides, and despite coming from a royal background, the sheer opulence of the wealthiest had not charmed him – the economy would have to be stabilised, and the people given equal opportunity in order for the two nations to truly flourish.

_And flourish they will._

As he made his way along the corridor, he briefly considered sating himself with a whore. But Eva's earlier remarks lingered in his mind, and his dark smile returned.

No, it wasn't a whore he wanted.

It was her.

"We are finished here," he informed the Russian ambassador as he met him at the doors. "I will return to New York. Should any… issues arise, inform me immediately."

"Very good, sir," the ambassador replied, before bowing and departing.

Loki wasted no time in appearing exactly where he desired to – planes and paparazzi were not required now. He glanced at the nearest guard, who instantly came to attention. Loki's eyes gleamed faintly with mirth.

"Fetch Ms Manning for me. Bring her to my chambers."

The guard nodded, bowed and went on his way. Loki laughed softly, and entered his quarters. His suit shimmered and altered into his Asgardian robes, and he conjured a glass of his preferred vintage, taking a sip and seating himself in a large leather armchair, glancing out of the windows at the city.

"I will not be summoned like some  _pet_ ," came the familiar tone from the doorway, the disdain like a drug to him. "Were it not for the fact that I knew you'd kill the guard if I refused, I would not have come."

He smiled, a note of amusement sounding, and he drained his glass, setting it down on the table and turning his head to view her.

"Ah, but you missed me. You were bored enough – and foolish enough, I might add – to venture out without security or a vehicle. What madness drove you to that, I wonder?"

"I went stir-crazy. I needed to get out. I couldn't stay in this building forever."

"That was quite obvious." He rose to his feet, fluid as always, and beckoned as he walked away from her. "Come. I wish to show you something."

"My, has something on this earth  _impressed_  you? Could it be true?"

"Are you always this acerbic, Eva?"

"Would you want me to be anything else?"

His chuckle was silken.

"Oh, I think you know the answer to that, my dear."

He disappeared through the doors. Reluctantly she followed him – out onto the edges of the building. She froze, swallowing at the height as her limbs locked, and she glanced out rather than down. His hand curved around her waist, securing her to him.

"Frightened, my dear?"

"Why are we out here, Loki?"

"I want you to look. Out at the city. Look at it. It thrives."

She could not deny the truth of that.  _But then New York always has._

"Your point?"

"It is at peace, even as it prospers. Your world is at peace."

She turned her head to look at him, incredulous. "At  _peace_? Are you  _serious_? It's not peace! It's  _fear_! Goddamn  _fear_! They're terrified that if they stand up to you they'll die! Everyone knows how barbaric the Chitauri are. How many innocent children's deaths do you have on your hands, Loki?  _How many_?"

His eyebrow lifted.

"You believe I would harm little ones?"

"You have no issues with harming my brother, so I'm inclined to think you would," she hit back coldly. Loki's lips twitched.

"Children are the future. Why would I destroy them?"

"Because you're a sadistic bastard who says, and I quote, 'I do as I want'. Do you even have limits?"

He suddenly spun her around, slamming her up against the wall of the building, and she gasped as his hand pressed against her back, the other securing her wrists behind her in a single grip.

"I would be very careful how you speak to me, if I were you," he said in her ear. "You are too familiar. Have a care, Eva."

"You're the one that intends to fuck me. You can hardly accuse  _me_  of being 'familiar'," she spat, wincing as her wrists were pulled just that bit too tightly, making her arms scream in pain. His mouth closed on her throat, and she cried out as he kissed and sucked the skin, his teeth grazing the flesh. Her gasps very quickly turned into a traitorous moan, and he chuckled.

"Look at you. So pliable. But I am not going to have you now. Oh, no. No, I'm going to make you  _wait_. Wait until you are  _begging_  for my touch,  _pleading_  for my caress, my lips upon  _every inch of your skin_."

His words sent a flicker of heat to her belly, and she swore. His fingers left her back only to trail down her spine, causing her to arch up.

"Never," she hissed, biting her lip to stop any more noises of protest.

Whether they were for him to stop or continue, she wasn't sure.

He released her wrists and turned her to face him. She knew her cheeks were flushed, her eyes too intense, and without warning he kissed her, caging her in with his arms, hands flat against the wall.

Instantly, her fingers tugged on his robes, her eyes closing as his lips sought dominance, declared it. She could feel her knees weakening, and without a word he lifted her easily, her legs tangling around his hips. He walked back into his chambers, and simply let her drop into an armchair, moving away. She inhaled at the fall, and stared at him in disbelief as she tried to sit up properly, running a hand through her hair.

"So human," he laughed, drinking in her dazed and dishevelled state. "So easily ruled by your emotions."

"And you're not? You tried to destroy a whole realm in your anger, from what I've heard."

His hand closed on her throat before that action even registered in her brain, and he raised her up like a ragdoll, bringing her to his eye level. His gaze was piercing, icy, sending chills down her spine as her mind fought to stay calm.

"Must you always be so belligerent?" His voice was a soft, lilting thing, and his thumb pressed into the flesh of her neck. "It will not end well for you if you continue to bait me."

"I'm going to die anyway, so I might as well get all the thrill I can out of it," she replied, a low rasping retort as his fingers flexed around her throat. He scoffed and released her. She collapsed in the armchair, gasping, rubbing her neck, swallowing.

"I said I would break you. I never said I would kill you, Eva."

"No. But one day you'll go too far, and then all you'll have left is a corpse," she whispered, coughing. "Another to add to your daily growing list of fatalities. What then? Would you tell my family? My brother? Tell him that his big sister is never coming home? Could you bear that, cold as you are? Telling a child that the one he looks up to is gone? Could you?"

He turned to face her, and he strode forwards to take her chin in his hand.

"Your brother will realise that I am good for this world. That I will save it. I have not threatened him, nor frightened him. His innocence is still intact."

Her eyes narrowed.

"You would not dare."

"Try me."

"He would never believe you!" she hissed. "Not when his parents –"

"Are dead. They perished in that war."

"He  _has_  a mother and father!"

"No, Eva. They are not his parents, no more than Odin and Frigga are mine."

"Is this is how you'll hurt me?" Her voice was abruptly quiet. "By manipulating him?"

Loki's hand brushed her face, thumb tracing her lips. The look in his eyes was almost gentle.

And it terrified her more than his rage or malice ever could.

"That would be telling,  _lítteinn_."

His gaze lingered upon her for a moment longer, and then he straightened, turning his head to look out at the expanse of civilisation outside the building.

"Of course, I could bring him here whenever I wished. But you see, I'm not inclined to reunite the two of you just yet. No. Timing is crucial." He glanced back at her. "And it is not now."

He vanished.


	8. Chapter 8

Two nights later, and Eva was voicing her refusal. Angrily. Loki had commanded her to attend an event hosted in New York – by his side. She had immediately declined, the idea both terrifying and sickening. But he would not take no for an answer, no matter how hard she rejected the notion.

"Eva, you  _will_  be there. I will not have it otherwise. You  _will_  attend, and you  _will_  enter at my side." His tone was akin to ice. "I will hear no further protest on the matter. It is decided."

"I will not be your trophy to flaunt!" she shouted. "I am neither your lady or your queen – I have no place at your side, and nor do I wish for one!"

A mocking smile formed upon his mouth, and he sat in one of the armchairs, studying her as she stood in the doorway, her posture screaming defence.

"From my understanding, a trophy is only there to look good. You, my dear, have not only looks but also a brain. Your mind is your greatest asset, and I could not have a senseless wench by my side, could I? You will charm the ambassadors, the politicians, the businessmen and women. You will challenge their words, keep them – to use a mortal phrase – on the ball. You will impress them and you will impress me. And you will smile while doing so. Now tell me, Ms Manning. Is that understood?"

The look she gave him could have burned holes in steel, and she strode over to him, seething. She placed her hands on the arms of the chair and leant forwards, her face like thunder.

"I am  _not_  your  _pet_."

He laughed, igniting her fury further, and his finger tapped her chin.

"Then what are you, pray tell?"

"I am  _me_. My own woman, who cannot be commanded by a so-called King!"

His fingers closed upon her chin, and he tugged her forwards, ignoring her resistance, until she lost her balance and fell onto him. Her hands shot out to brace her fall, and she nearly recoiled when they felt his robes beneath them, clothing strong, hard shoulders. It was only then she realised he had caught her, and his hands gripped her waist.

"Will you never learn?" he whispered in her ear, honeyed poison. "The closer you come, the easier you fall." His lips closed on her throat, right upon that spot which so many found sensitive, and she inhaled sharply. "I thought you were  _clever_ ,  _lítteinn_ …"

"Let me up," she gasped, pushing against him and panicking when he would not release her. "Let me up!"

"No," came his simple reply, and his mouth claimed hers. One hand tangled in her hair, gripping the back of her head with a possession that had her shocked into submission. The other splayed against her back, and brought her onto his lap.

"Why do you scare so?" he murmured, his fingers slipping under her blouse and tracing her spine.

She knew exactly why. It wasn't the fear that he would take her. No.

It was the fear that she would give in. She no longer trusted herself around him. As if she knew that soon he would win –

"No," she whispered, horrified. "I can't. I can't."

He seemed to follow her train of thought, and his finger traced her jaw as he looked up at her, gaze softening.

"You can," he spoke, and his voice held a persuasion which could have only been learnt by him. Smooth, lilting, yet with an edge of command to it; even when gentle, he could never completely relinquish that side of him. "And you will."

He released her, and she stumbled from his lap, taking refuge in the other chair, watching him warily.

"You have something to request of me," he noted, his gaze upon her, fingers steepling. "Ask it."

She inhaled, running her tongue between her teeth as she pondered how best to put forth her request.

"I need to get out," she said eventually, her eyes meeting his unflinchingly. "I can't walk two streets here without being swarmed by the press. I need some peace and quiet. Away from New York. I don't care where it is. I just need fresh air and green spaces and somewhere I can hope to relax."

He looked at her for a second longer, before rising and walking to the windows, his hands loosely clasped behind his back, his carriage ever regal.

"We leave for Geneva in three days," he spoke calmly. "I must speak with various delegates about the city becoming the capital of Europe. We will stay in the Palais des Nations, where you will not be disturbed by any media. If I recall correctly, the buildings are situated within a park, and it is shielded from the commotion of the city. You will be able to, as you put it, relax." He glanced at her, a smile toying with the corners of his mouth. "There are two villas available, but I think le Bocage will suit."

" _Bien_ _sûr_ ," she said coolly, rising to her feet. "As you wish."

She turned to leave, but his hand caught her wrist, and he pressed a kiss to the palm of her hand.

"Be pleasant tonight, Eva."

She turned her head, and smiled a smile which caught him off guard.

"Of course." Her voice was sweet. Too sweet. Loki tilted his head.

"Scheming,  _lítteinn_?"

She laughed, and pulled her hand from him, walking away into the bedroom.

"You tell me."

* * *

"The King asks if you are ready, my lady."

Eva nodded, picking up the black clutch from the table. "Tell him I will be out shortly."

She glanced in the long mirror, and sighed. She looked beautiful, she knew that, but she found no joy in it. Floor-length strapless scarlet gown, ruched at the hips, clinging gently to her curves, accentuating them. Her shoulders were covered with a short black faux-fur mantle, and she wore diamond drop earrings with red gloves up to her forearms; her hair was immaculately curled, and black stilettos adorned her feet. She knew Loki would approve. Yet that was what irked her. The fact that she was playing his game, but losing round by round. It was infuriating.

Her fingers pressed into the leather of the clutch, and, steeling herself, she walked out of the suite and into the hallway. A guard was there to accompany her, and the two of them made their way to the elevators.

"He waits for you in the foyer," the guard told her as the lift descended. Eva inclined her head, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

The elevator reached the ground floor, and when the door slid smoothly back, she stepped out, her heels tapping on the tiled flooring.

He was there, dressed in black with a dark green silk tie - so dark it was almost the colour of his suit - his hair brushing his shoulders, and his hands clasped behind his back. He turned at the sound of the elevator, and smiled as he took her in. He walked towards her, took her hand and kissed it, amused by the sudden fire in her gaze.

"Remember, my dear. Be nothing but charm personified tonight."

"Had I ever forgotten it?" she replied coolly. He released her hand, and gestured.

"Come; we do not want to be any later than is apparently fashionable."

His hand rested on the small of her back as he guided her out of the building and towards the car. The press were there, predictably, and she inhaled, keeping her composure as the footman opened the door, and she got into the vehicle. Loki slid in beside her via the opposite door, and she rolled her eyes as the car drove off.

"How on earth do you not want to yell at them?" she asked. "Do you not want to scream at them to back off?"

A sound of amusement left his lips. "You forget; I was raised as a prince. I am quite used to hordes of people, Asgardian or Midgardian. Although the use of cameras is something unknown on Asgard, it was not difficult to acclimatise to it here." He glanced at her. "But they trouble you. Deeply. And it isn't merely because you are unused to it, is it?"

She exhaled, debating on whether to elaborate.

"I'm not aristocracy, my family isn't filthy rich or famous. Before I made the idiotic decision to go and talk to you, I was a complete unknown. And I was happy with that. I was about to start teaching at university, I had a home I loved, friends. I had everything I could want. But then I had to go and mess that all up and get into business which I should have stayed well away from."

He was silent then, which surprised her somewhat.  _No witty comeback, no clever riposte?_

"Teaching?" he finally asked, his voice softer than she had ever heard it. She nodded.

"Yes. Teaching. Although I don't know if I  _could_  lecture my subject now, not after what's happened." She laughed hollowly. "I couldn't stand in a room and wax poetic about gods when one of them is sitting right next to me."

He smiled dryly. "Perhaps not. I used to teach on Asgard, you know."

She turned her head to look at him, surprised that he would give away that information so freely.

"You did?"

"I did." His tone was thoughtful, and she thought she heard a note of affectionate remembrance in it. "Only a small group, but they were the very best, the most skilled. You know of my magical abilities. I engaged a number of students to train their own powers; it kept me occupied, and though magic was not something held in high regard or talked of often, I knew my students were proud of what they could achieve, and I was proud of them."

"Where are they now?"

"On Asgard, naturally. I do not know exactly whereabouts." He was lying; he kept an eye on all of them, though he never visited, knowing his presence would complicate their lives. It was better for them to exist without his interference – besides, Midgard kept him so busy that he never had the time to visit, regardless of whether he wanted to or not.

"Do you think you'll take any more on? Surely Midgard must have some who can wield magic?" Despite her resistance to him, she was fascinated by this conversation, and for once her guards were down. Loki was well aware of that, but he did not manipulate the situation as was his way.

"I have enough to do at present. Were I to take any on, they would have to be exceptional. Worthy of my tutelage. But I would not teach for several years yet; your realm has much to be remedied first."

The car slowed to a halt, and Loki spoke then.

"I hope you are ready, my dear."

The doors opened, and he climbed out as she was helped from the vehicle. She straightened amid the clicking and shouting from camera and press, and was relieved that she had managed to remain elegant, neither stumbling or banging her head. Loki was there to take her hand, and he placed it over his arm.

"I do not like this," she murmured in Old Norse. What she really meant was that she wanted to walk in without her hand on his arm, and he knew that. He simply smiled as they made their way from the car to the entrance of the building where the event was being held.

"You will be presented as my lady, Eva," he replied in the same tongue. "It is only fitting that you should accompany me so."

"Ah, so I am your equal?" she responded drily. He laughed.

"Of course not. Whatever put that idea into your pretty little head?"

They reached the entrance, and moved smoothly into the foyer.

"Good evening, Your Grace. My lady." A man bowed, and another took both Eva's mantle and her clutch from her with a respectful nod of his head. She murmured her thanks, and Loki began to speak.

"Are they all in attendance?"

"Yes, Your Grace. They await you at your convenience."

"Well, then. We must not keep them waiting. Shall we, Eva?"

She fought a grimace, and smiled.

"As you wish."

His laughter was heard only in her head, and they proceeded to the next set of double doors.

When they opened, her outward façade of serenity nearly cracked. She was looking at a wide, grand staircase – and beyond that, below them, were a host of well-dressed people. Politicians and their spouses, both foreign and not, investors, businessmen and women… all the richest and cleverest were present. Some faces she even recognised, which took her by surprise.

"His Grace King Loki of Midgard, and Lady Eva of England."

That sounded completely absurd to her, but she did not voice it, nor show it upon her face, and the two of them descended the steps, confident. A power couple, almost.

_Except we are_ not _a couple._

The crowds bowed their heads in reverence, and Eva realised that either they were all consummate actors, or they genuinely believed in Loki's leadership. Not one of them appeared uneasy or disrespectful.  _How? They're supposed to be fighting against him!_

_They know that I am good for your realm_ , came Loki's calm tones.  _They want me on the throne, guiding their race to better times._

"My King," one man spoke as they reached the bottom. "It is an honour." He and Loki both shook hands, again something which took Eva aback, and Loki smiled.

"As always, Francis. May I introduce Eva Manning, the lady who has caused quite a stir these past few days."

Francis's eyes were amiable, and he took her hand, pressing a kiss to the back.

"A pleasure, Miss Manning."

And then it began. She was not sure how she would have managed to greet the various individuals without the glass of champagne that was given to her by one of the waiters, and she was inwardly relieved for it – and the soft violin music playing which soothed her. She found the talk by most of the women dull and vapid, and it was only when someone asked her about Loki that she was able to fully engage her brain.

"Yes, what is he like?" one of the women echoed. It was an innocent enough question, but the curiosity in her eyes betrayed her sordid thoughts. Disgust rippled through Eva, and Loki's voice sounded in her mind.

_Are they being distasteful, my dear?_

_Nothing I cannot handle_ , she replied curtly.  _Go back to your debates._

Eva looked at the small throng, formulating her answer. She knew the need for discretion, and she had always been a private person, even before she was thrust into the spotlight.

"He is as a King should be," she replied calmly. "Nothing more, nothing less. You understand that I will not divulge any personal information, I do hope." Her gaze drifted over the woman, who had the grace to blush and look slightly discomfited.

"But how did you two meet?" another persisted, with hungry eyes and a just-too-thin figure. Clearly being as slight as possible was still all the rage here, even under Loki's rule. Eva was slim, but she possessed curves, and her cleavage was not inconsiderable. It was clear that her figure was one that almost every man – and some women – in the room instantly appreciated. It did not escape Loki's notice, and his possessive streak growled within, but he kept his countenance serene and cordial as the two of them moved in different circles.

"Ah, I am afraid that too will remain private," Eva answered. "I am sorry I cannot be more entertaining, truly."

A waiter came up to her, and she thankfully turned to him, though well aware that her interrogators were silent and observing.

"His Grace asks if you require anything, my lady," the man said quietly in her ear. Grateful for the attendant's discretion – and to an extent Loki's indirect rescue, though that realisation disturbed her somewhat – she shook her head slightly.

"No, but thank you," she murmured with a smile. "I am quite alright."

He bowed and left, and Eva turned her head to see Loki looking at her. He raised a brow at her questioningly.

_Concerned?_  she asked dryly. His lips twitched.

_Ensuring that you do not murder any of the guests would be a more accurate description,_  he replied levelly.  _Do not think I haven't noticed your desire to strangle the lady._

_I am not responsible for the consequences._

He chuckled.  _Of course not._

The socialising went on for what seemed like an age, until all of a sudden talking turned to dancing. Confusion blossomed. She hadn't even known any of the guests  _could_ dance, or knew how to.

She set her glass on a passing waiter's tray as Loki's eyes locked with hers, and she understood then.

_What will it be?_ he asked as the two of them moved to the centre of the ballroom.  _Passion, or elegance?_

_If you think I am dancing the tango with you again you are sorely mistaken,_ she responded coldly, though a flicker of desire for  _that_  routine ignited within her. His lips curved; he had not missed that flicker at all, and her denial amused him.

_A waltz, then, since it is doubtful any of these present would know how to dance the tango skilfully._

His hand curved around her waist as hers rested upon his chest, and as she placed her other palm in his, the violins struck up, and they began to dance, their steps easy and flowing.

"How are you finding tonight, my dear?" he asked softly, in his mother-tongue, knowing many would be straining to hear their conversation. Her expression remained tranquil, but her eyes spoke volumes.

"The women are tedious, and the men are clearly more interested in my body than my mind," she replied in the same idiom. "It probably doesn't help that I am wearing scarlet and that everyone in this room thinks I am your whore."

His eyes flashed. "Yes. I am well aware what these mortals think of you."

"And it is all your doing," she hit back, her tone deceptively sweet. "How does that feel,  _my King_?" She was mocking him, and the grip on her waist tightened.

"Careful, Eva," he murmured in her ear. "We don't want to appear fractured, do we?"

"We were never in one piece," she spoke steadily, though her heart raced as his breath caressed her neck. "Or has your deluded mind convinced you otherwise?"

He laughed. "Oh,  _lítteinn_. My thoughts are nothing but realistic; it is  _you_  who is deluded."

He spun her around, and brought her flush against his chest. Her eyes sought to deny, to break away from him, yet she couldn't. Everyone else was dancing around them, but she could only see and feel him. Feel the suit beneath her fingers, feel his gaze burning her, see the planes of his face, his glittering eyes.

_No. I can't. I can't. It's wrong, I shouldn't._

"You've impressed me thus far with your resistance," he said then, twirling her. "Nevertheless, you are wavering, my dear. I can sense it in your every move. You fear not I, but the surrender. Don't. Give in. You will feel better in doing so."

She was silent, her cheeks stained with rose, and she glanced away, uneasy.

"No," she finally whispered. "It can't. It won't happen."

"Oh, my little lioness, but it will. It will," he whispered, his eyes smouldering enough that it made her feel almost dazed.

The waltz finished, and he released her with a smile that was nothing but predatory.

Even as the discussions and debates continued, that smile was always,  _always_  in the back of her mind, and anticipation lit a fire within her body, something that horrified her completely. And she knew Loki had noted it, judging by the looks he gave her every now and then. Heated promise.

_I will eat you alive._

It was never spoken, not by mouth or in mind, but she could sense his intent. She fought the shivers that threatened to twist and crawl up her spine.  _Not now. Not here._ Somehow she managed to get through the remainder of the evening without giving herself away to the guests, and it was with pure relief – after forcing her heart to slow when Loki placed her hand on his arm to lead her from the ballroom – that she exited the building at the end and all but fell back against the car seat as the door closed on her, her eyelids falling shut.

"Well, that was quite eventful, was it not?"

His tone was laced with laughter, and she did not open her eyes to look at him as the car drove away. Not even when his hand grasped hers, though she tensed enough. Only when his fingers trailed along her thigh did she freeze and stare at him, instinctively shifting away from him. His gaze was triumphant.

"You know you cannot fight forever, my dear."

"Well, no, because I will have died. The whole 'being mortal' issue." It was attempted sarcasm, but weakened by the inner struggle in her mind. Her knuckles were white with tension, her whole posture defensive. Loki simply let his fingers drift upwards, and she slapped them away, her blush darkening considerably amid his derisive mirth.

"Don't touch me," she hissed.

The silence was deafening throughout the journey back to the Chrysler, and she got out of the car without a word to Loki, walking into the building, her gaze focused ahead of her, refusing to turn to look at him. She reached the elevator, and her finger was just about to press the button when his hand closed on her waist, and he tutted.

"No. Not today."

In a second, they were both standing in his chambers, and he let her go with a kiss to her bare shoulder. Her body tautened at that, but he merely slid her short cape from her shoulders, placing it upon the back of a chair on top of his suit jacket. He moved to the nearby table, conjuring a glass in his hand, with a peach-coloured liquid. He returned to her, holding out the shallow almost-goblet in his hand. He smiled knowingly.

"I do believe this will be suited to your tastes."

_Sex on The Beach._  Of course it would be. She glared at him, though she pulled the gloves from her hands, draping them over the chair, and she took the delicate cocktail glass. She nearly jolted at the brush of his fingers against hers, and she retreated from him and raised the cocktail to her lips, sipping it. The drink was perfectly made, and she lowered it, her eyes never leaving his. She took a step back, needing space, safety. Or at least the illusion of it. She knew perfectly well that he could have her in a second if he so chose. As it was, he was simply enjoying the expression upon her face.

"Not bad for someone who has never made a cocktail in their life," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. His smile widened at the slight trembling of her tone.

"It is not difficult." He could see her fingers tightening on the glass; if she wasn't careful, she would break it. Not that he'd mind. Such a display of raw emotion from her would satisfy him immensely.

Eva felt as though she were a coil waiting to snap from being stretched too far. His gaze, his words, the days of dancing around each other, of playing cat and mouse… it was wearing on her. She was drawn to him, she knew that, could no longer deny it.

_Fuck._

The glass hit the floor as she tossed it aside, shattering into a thousand pieces as Eva strode over to the god, and her lips met his with an almost desperate hunger. Her fingers closed on his shirt, and there was no gentleness; she tore at the fabric, spurred by rage, feeling the material rip. This was violent passion, fiery and unrelenting. What was it Shakespeare had said?

_These violent delights have violent ends,_

_Which as they kiss, consume…_

Her back slammed into the wall, and his mouth claimed dominance. Her hands fisted in his hair, pulling at it, and his teeth bit her lower lip, blood welling up. He licked at it, but all of a sudden he spun her from the wall. His hand caught her wrist, and she found herself doing exactly what she had vowed not to.

The tango.

His hands were everywhere, lifting and pulling and twisting her body as she kept the pace with him, gasping and arching back as his hands skimmed her form, as he lifted a leg to his hip, half dragging her across the large chamber, his gaze akin to an inferno. Her hand struck his cheek, hard, and he seized her mouth with his, relishing her outraged response which very quickly deviated into a longing moan. He bent over her, lowering her almost to the floor, his lips brushing her collarbone, his tongue flicking the heated skin. Then he pulled her up, and the dance began again, passionate, vehement. Eva would have bruises in the morning, but she barely cared. His fingers pressed into her flesh, so hard it would have made her normally wince, but she was too fired up to even feel the pain. She cried out as his teeth marked her throat, and his fingers danced down her back, rendering her incapable of even a word.

Loki turned her so she faced away from him, and she inhaled as she felt him rip her dress in half down the back, the material falling slack as he tore it from her body in strips. She was trembling, and his mouth pressed kisses to her bare back. His fingers toyed with the waistband of her underwear, and she tensed as she heard it snap, and the feeling of it being pulled from her, leaving her bare, save for her stilettos. But even they were taken from her; she was thrown over the edge of the couch onto her stomach, and his hands deftly undid the straps. Eva heard the soft thump as the heels landed upon the carpeted floor, and she inhaled as she felt the lightest of touches upon the backs of her legs. Yet then a hand closed on her neck, and she found herself yanked upwards. He turned her to face him, and she went for his shirt – only to find that it was gone. Instead, solid muscle met her grasp, and she stared. A taut abdomen, with a line of hair from his navel which led tantalisingly downwards. Broad shoulders, though not as wide as others' she'd seen over the years, with distinct biceps. Loki radiated subtle strength, and he lifted her easily by her hips, his hands cupping her behind as he walked swiftly to his bedchamber, his mouth never relinquishing hers until he reached his bed, and he threw her onto it as easily as he would a piece of clothing, not caring if he hurt her.

Eva barely had time to recover before she was flipped onto all fours, and Loki's hand slipped around her to cup her breasts alternately, squeezing and feeling the soft flesh. His other slid around her waist, and she gasped as he toyed with her clit, rubbing and teasing. He ran a finger along her slit, feeling her body clench, and he licked his finger clean, the wet  _pop_  of his digit being released from his mouth sending shivers down her spine.

But then his hands gripped her hips, and she inhaled as she felt him penetrate her, the rhythm relentless, hard, and it took all she had not to collapse. She hadn't even realised he'd dispensed with his last garments, and the feel of his bare flesh against hers was near-intoxicating. He rolled her nipple between finger and thumb as he thrust, and she bit back a cry as pain jolted through her breast. Eva shuddered as fresh pleasure burst within her, and she yelped as his teeth marked her neck, sucking the skin and leaving a purple mark which made his lips curve up in satisfaction. She reached back and grasped his hair, pulling hard, and with a growl he wrenched her hand away, pinning it under his own as he increased the rhythm. There was no finesse, this was all about dominance.

The end came in a furore of passion. His teeth bit her shoulder, hard, and she cried out as she tumbled over the edge, Loki following swiftly with a hoarse groan, his rhythm stuttering as he reached his peak. The both of them fell onto the bed, he pulling out of her, and she moved away from him, her eyes aflame. She was wary as she lay on her side, watchful even when still in the throes of her orgasm, her body quivering. He reached for her, and Eva slapped his hand, fury swelling. Loki laughed quietly, and simply observed her as he too lay on his side. His eyes were playful.

_How now, my little lioness?_

She did not respond, though he could feel the ire surging through her. He could see the bruises marking her skin, slowly blossoming, and he marvelled at how easily damaged she could be, though she had matched his pace and never faltered. It had been her anger that had bolstered her, and he smiled faintly. He was almost… proud. Even after her surrender, she was still fighting.

She would not sleep, either. Defiant, she kept her eyes upon him, even as the minutes passed in silence. Yet this was one battle she could not win. He studied her form, eyelids, mouth, posture, studied it all as she gradually succumbed to slumber, gloriously naked upon his sheets.

_What have I done?_

Her last coherent thought.

And it only made him smile.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Eva stirred amongst the sheets, blindly uncurling her limbs and stretching her body out. The bed-linen smelt… different. Not like hers. There was a faint scent of masculinity –

Her eyes shot open, and colour flooded her cheeks.

_Oh, fuck._

Loki's bed.

The memories surged through her mind, and she bit back a groan. Last night had been a mistake, surely. Never mind that it had relieved… tensions. It had been –  _quite literally_  – sleeping with the enemy.

_Eva, you fool. You played right into his hands. He knew it was going to happen, he'd been planning it. And you fell straight into the trap._

She sat up, glancing around her. The four poster's curtains were drawn; she was in near darkness, save for the slivers of sunlight that pervaded through various gaps. And she was alone. Naked, too, and that she cursed to high heaven. She did not even  _dare_  try to find the remains of her clothes – and it wasn't like she was craving to wear Loki's shirt, either.

_Ugh._

Yet more recollections flitted through her of the night before, and she did groan this time, not in longing but in exasperation. No wonder she was so goddamn sore. She could feel the bruises all over her body, and she knew her lips were swollen from where he had kissed and bitten them. And the worst thing – the very thing she  _hated_  to admit to herself – was that she  _knew_  he was good in bed. She'd never been so satisfied, even though she detested the god. Beneath the layers of loathing and violence, there had been gratification. On both sides. She'd felt his climax mingle with her own, heard his hoarse groan, heard her own desperate cry. Much as she might detest him, there was a faint sense of pride that she was able to make him come undone in such a way.

Of course, once she'd realised that, she'd pushed that feeling away, instantly rejected it. Their coupling had been an impulse, and it would not happen again, no matter how good it had felt (and it was  _at least_  a ten out of ten).

She returned her focus to her current clothes-less predicament, and pulled a face. The only thing she could find to wrap around herself was the sheet.  _Oh, how cliché. And it's never realistic, even in movies._  The sheet itself was far too big, and she couldn't even tug it out. Groaning, she fell back on the bed, and her hand smacked against a pillow which crackled. She turned her head to see a note which had definitely not been there before, and she unfolded it, her eyes scanning the cursive script as she held it close to a ray of sunlight.

_Good morning. I do hope you slept well. You need not worry about clothes, my dear; there are some of yours upon the chair. I had them brought here this morning for you. I apologise for my absence, but being a King does require that I rise early, even after decadent evenings. Oh, and you may want to peruse the newspapers this morning for a surprise._

No sooner had she read those words than she shot out of bed to search for the newspapers, hurriedly pulling on a green silk robe she found hanging upon the chair on top of her other clothes. A 'surprise' where Loki was concerned was probably something highly horrific, and almost certainly unpleasant. Thankfully, she did not have to search far for the newspapers; there was a stack of them in the lounge, where her breakfast was also situated. She sat at the table, and unfolded the first one.

"Holy shit," she whispered, her heart simultaneously leaping and sinking as she read the headline emblazoned in bold across the front page.

LADY OF MIDGARD TO TEACH AT BRITISH UNIVERSITY

"Loki, you bastard…" She read through the article, and her eyes grew steadily wider. "What in god's name have you done?"

"Given you the chance to do as you'd like, I believe," came his coolly amused tones from the chair opposite. "You'll teach tomorrow. For a day, before we move to Geneva to discuss business there."

She flipped the top of the newspaper over to look at him in sheer disbelief.

" _Tomorrow_? But I have no lesson plan, no way of forming one, and –  _England_?  _Seriously_?" She couldn't hide the hunger in her tone.  _England. Home._

Loki languidly stirred his espresso.

"I will assume you know of the university also."

She reread the article – and she swallowed as she noted the very obvious detail which she had completely skipped over beforehand.

"University College London. One of the best in its field.  _My_  school."

He inclined his head, setting the small spoon on the table.

"Students from other universities who are reading similar courses – and students from your institution who have a proved interest in the subject – are being allowed to attend, if they can arrive in time," he continued idly, and her eyes widened a little.

"You mean I'm teaching at the university I attended for all three of my degrees, with students that might even come from  _Cambridge_?"

"Yes."

"It's eleven in the morning. How did you arrange all this so quickly? I only told you last night!"

He smiled drily, taking a sip of his coffee. "King, my dear. I can arrange anything how and whenever I like. And no-one can refuse me. But status aside, they seemed quite happy for you to teach. I do believe the phrase 'gifted student' arose. And they were not even being sycophantic towards me in that respect. They truly meant it."

She blushed.

"You also declined a position at that university after we had first encountered each other… why?"

She looked at him, the blush fading.

"I didn't want to make it easy for you. Lecturer at a prestigious university? Easy for you. But a librarian in a small town? Hardly conspicuous."

He laughed. "Oh, Eva. I never lost sight of you once. I knew exactly where you were. Your job would have made no difference." His smile was malicious. "Did you really think I would let you slip into obscurity?"

"Foolish thought, I'll admit. But I lived in hope." She drank a little tea, relishing the heat of the liquid.

In the midst of their conversation, she hadn't noticed that her robe had opened a little and revealed the curve of her breasts to him, something he had not missed in the least. She did look ravishing, he mused. Tousled curls, cerise lips, pale skin, and a figure that any man would lust after.

"I told the department that you will be lecturing on mythology," he said calmly. She raised an eyebrow, unamused.

"Oh yes, pick the one that's  _bound_  to cause problems," she remarked exasperatedly. "Very clever. All I'll get are questions on you. And I refuse to do that. I'm not some celebrity media source on 'King Loki'. No goddamn way."

"Then you keep your students in line," he replied steadily. "A good teacher should be able to do so. Besides, your pupils will actually know what you are lecturing on. There will not be people attending for the sake of setting eyes upon the King's lady, you have my word on that."

"Your word means absolutely nothing, Liesmith," she said coldly, standing. The robe parted then, and Loki's eyes travelled up her exposed skin. She felt a blush stain her cheeks, and he laughed softly.

"So shy? You were  _quite_  the brazen one last night, if I recall correctly." His eyes glittered, and outrage crossed her countenance, along with a flicker of barely concealed desire.

"That will not happen again," she said quietly. He smiled.

"Back to denial, are we? I thought progress had been made, especially with last night as evidence."

"The bruises are spectacular, by the way," she said sarcastically. His smile widened, and he gestured.

"Show me."

"Oh, no. No, no, no. You are  _not_  seeing this body again. Once is enough." She turned away from him. "Don't you have something political to deal with? Mutinous French, the two Russias?"

"Not today," he murmured, suddenly behind her. She purposely held the robe tighter, determined not to let him view her, not like he had the previous night. He chuckled, and his hand tangled in her curls.

"Let.  _Go_." Her voice was icy, and she tensed as she felt his hand on her hip, peeling back the robe. She tried to slap his hand back, but in doing so the robe opened wider, and she gasped as his hand stole down her waist to cup her. His thumb pressed mercilessly against her nub, and she let out a soft moan, hating how traitorously her body was acting.

"No," she groaned. "Stop. Please.  _Stop_."

"Ah, but you do not mean that,  _lítteinn_ ," he purred. "You know your words are weak in will."

In a second he had slammed her up against the shower wall, and it took her a moment to realise exactly where she was, before she felt hot water cascading over her naked body, and a mouth tasting her skin, fingertips pressing into her hips. He spun her, and his lips sought hers, claiming authority. She instantly responded, though her actions were as vehement as his were dominant, fighting him even as their lips met and bodies joined in a frenzy of need. There was no affection in their couplings, no love or gentleness. It was all physical passion, violent emotion. Bites, growls, raking of nails. And she hated how she had cried aloud for him amidst the rushing of the water. It hadn't been his name –  _thank god_  – but it had been enough to make him laugh and then simply pin her wrists to the tiled wall with his hands as he took her over and over.

Later would find the two of them sat at opposite ends of the large shower, eyeing each other, a faint smile upon his face, utter loathing upon hers. She wanted to slap the satisfaction off his countenance, but she knew he'd probably enjoy it, if their interactions were anything to go by. She simply watched him, her blue eyes accusatory.  _Your fault_ , they seemed to say.  _Bastard._

"That was certainly  _much_  easier than the previous encounter," he remarked dryly, his eyes glinting. She rolled her eyes, though her thighs were aching and her body still trembled a little with aftershocks.

"A lapse in judgement. It is morning, after all, I was hardly coherent."

He smirked, raising a brow. "I do believe it is almost afternoon, actually. And you were 'coherent' enough to act in quite a rough manner towards me not five minutes ago. It is no use feigning your attitude, Eva, not anymore. I know I satisfy you, and you know you will come to me. A woman like you thrives on instinct, on natural drive. Sex is your innate drug, if you will."

Her eyebrows shot into her hairline.

"You are saying I'm addicted."

He chuckled. "No. You cannot be, since you had no significant other in the months after my victory. You had no-one to warm your bed."

Her cheeks were splashed with shocked scarlet. "How  _dare_  you! Do you have any idea how  _disturbing_  it is that you  _know_  that?"

The slow curve of his mouth was languid. "Your world is so conservative. I was going to state that you thrive on the passion it brings. You will always crave more when you have a partner. When you are without, you do not feel the need as often. Yet with someone… you become the earthy, brazen woman that is part of you. Why else would you have succumbed just now? You wanted it, wanted what I could give you. And that is pleasure, however violent it may be. Accept it, Eva. I am able to unleash that side of you far better than any fumbling mortal man. And you will always return for more."

"Fine. I am a sexual being, I will concede to that," she said calmly, though her cheeks were still stained crimson. "But it is incredibly arrogant for you to assume that you are the best I've ever had."

"Aren't I?" His smile was lazy, amused.

"No, you're not." The lie fell effortlessly, but, Loki being Loki, it was easily detected, and he laughed softly.

"Try again."

She exhaled. "Damn you to Hel, Loki."

"Ah, come now. Where is the lashing tongue I know? Have you given up already, my dear?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Lashing tongues rarely work on snakes."

He grinned. "I see. But do silver tongues work on lionesses?"

The look she gave him, against her better judgement, was akin to a smoulder.

"Only when strategically placed."

His eyebrows rose, and she got to her feet, leaving the shower and wrapping a towel around her body, satisfied at the silence that followed.

* * *

The lecture hall was packed. Literally. She'd never seen so many students in one room. They were all talking, and nearly all glancing at her as she set up at the front. She wasn't dressed in a suit, no, too formal. Much to Loki's distaste, she had chosen to wear jeans; certainly, she liked to make a good impression, but she preferred enthusiasm to do that than focusing on whether she had a crease in her skirt or not. She sighed. Admittedly, she was nervous. But she was also excited. Loki or not, she was  _teaching_. Something she'd longed to do for years. And here she was, doing exactly that.

"So," she began, causing everyone to shut up and take note. "The Aesir. Good or bad?"

"Both," someone called. Eva smiled.

"You think they're a grey area, then. Why is that?"

And it began. Her fears of being asked about Loki were proved utterly wrong. This wasn't a room full of gossipers, these were scholars, students. Eager to learn and willing to participate.

And they challenged, something she relished. In particular, one was seemingly determined to win the debate – and she couldn't say she was surprised that the topic had turned to Loki; he was an intriguing mythological character in himself, never mind the connection she had to the Loki who called himself King of Midgard.

"If we're agreed that Loki was to blame, then could Odin not have been at fault also?"

"Thor was the one who threatened to behead Loki, not Odin," the boy spoke up. Eva tilted her head, smiling.

"True. But how does that bring Odin into it?"

"He let Loki sit at the table. He could have refused. But he did not."

Eva looked at the boy properly as he sat at the back of the lecture hall. Longish auburn hair, and glittering blue-green eyes, with an angular face and perfect posture. Her lips twitched.

"Indeed he could have. But if we take into account that in that piece of lore, in the  _Lokasenna_ , Loki and Odin were blood brothers, Odin could not refuse, especially when Loki called him out on it."

"Assuming they are blood brothers, of course."

"In this instance, we will, yes. Do you have another theory?"

He never even faltered; she could feel his confidence even from where she stood. He knew what he was talking about, he wasn't grabbing at straws.

"Only that Loki and Thor are the brothers, and Odin their father."

That caused a stir, and the whole hall turned in their seats to look at the boy, intrigued and surprised that one could be so forthright. Eva raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? Do explain."

"In the mythology, it is written that Loki and Thor often went on escapades together, and while not stated, it implies a brotherly relationship, does it not?"

"Subjective. It would appear to be more of a blood-brother bond than a true biological tie," she replied calmly. The boy's eyes flickered, and he swiftly gave another point.

It continued between the two of them for the better part of fifteen minutes. The whole hall was utterly enraptured by the pair's verbal sparring back and forth, never faltering nor backing down. And Eva felt  _alive_ , rejuvenated by the debating. This was what she was born to do, she knew it. And there was no way Loki would keep her from it.

It ended with both of them cool as a breeze, intellectually sated, and Eva turned away as a low, amused voice sounded from the back of the room.

"Well, that was  _most_  invigorating. Class dismissed."

Eva's lips tugged, and she turned back to see the red-haired boy gone and a tall, lithe pale-skinned man dressed in sleek black making his way down the steps, much to the astonishment of the students, some of whom went white while others stifled cries of shock.

"I should have known you'd be present," she said dryly, gathering up her papers. "As soon as I saw the eyes, I knew. Nice touch with the hair, by the way. Snaptun Stone, hearth, flames. I approve. Now, do you think it might be possible for me to lecture without your interference?"

The students, despite Loki's dismissal of them, still remained in the room, fascinated by the scene before them. One had covertly taken their mobile phone and was recording every word, before Loki held out his hand and the device shot into his palm. He tutted, pressed a button, and then effortlessly tossed the phone back to the student.

"Your race never was one for subtlety," he remarked, glancing at the culprit once, a look which made them go pale. He then addressed the whole room in a calm yet cautionary tone. "You will find, any of you who tried to record this, that your devices have no memory of it. Please do not attempt to do so again. This was a lecture, after all, not a publicity event. Now, you will leave and you will do so quietly. I will not say it again."

They needed no further inducement, and the room gradually emptied of students, some of them thanking her with words and a smile, though nervous in essence.

"A pleasure," she called back, returning the smiles, her heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. She sighed, tucking her notes into her bag, before turning to look at Loki.

"I suppose I should be thanking you," she said wryly. His eyes glittered.

"Should I expect gratitude?"

Eva laughed, and turned to head out of the room.


	10. Chapter 10

The plane touched down at the airport, and Eva sighed. It was a familiar concept, now. She longed for her home, for her job. And to see her family. Above all things, that was what she craved the most. To joke with her father, reminisce with her mother, hug her little brother. Simple things that most people took for granted. Yet she hadn't been able to do any of those things for god knows how long. She'd lost track, but she knew it had been at least a month.

A month with Loki. She had no idea how she'd managed to survive, but it seemed Loki had no intention of ending her life just yet, which she was indubitably grateful for. Perhaps her intelligence attracted him more than she'd thought. She knew she was clever, however it amazed her that she was able to keep up with him, a being with genius-level intellect who seemed far more cultured and educated than she.

She slid into the car as Loki did – but she immediately noticed the black barrier in front of her. She could not see the driver; the passenger seats were cut off from the front of the car. She frowned, and glanced at Loki, raising an eyebrow questioningly. He smiled, and pressed a button.

"Yes, sir?" spoke the driver through the intercom.

"Take a detour."

"Anywhere in particular, sir?"

"No. Just drive as you see fit, and until I give you your next instruction."

Loki did not wait for the driver's reply before releasing the button, and he looked at Eva. His lips curved as he saw the seatbelt.

"You won't be needing that. Come."

She raised an eyebrow, and a blush crept up her cheeks as she realised what he was insinuating.

_Not again._

"No."

He sighed, and turned to her. The click as he released the seatbelt was audible enough in the silence that she fought a shiver when she felt the belt loosen. Loki's eyes were dark, and Eva inhaled as his hand delved between her thighs, parting them with consummate ease, even as she tried to keep them closed. The skirt was a deliciously deep scarlet, as was the blouse, a black belt tight around her waist. His fingers curled around the scrap of lace separating him from her most intimate parts, and there was a loud ripping noise as he tore it away with no effort whatsoever. His hand withdrew, and she stared at him.

"Are you  _mad_? Mend that, right now!"

"Ah, you assume I can do such a thing." He smiled dryly. "How presumptuous of you."

He let the slip of lace drop to the floor of the car, and his hand curved around her hip. Her eyes narrowed.

"No –"

He pulled her onto his lap, her legs straddling him. His hand moved over her behind, and he squeezed it, his other hand sliding under her blouse. She opened her mouth to protest, but his lips swallowed any words she might have spoken, and satisfaction filtered through him as he felt her succumb to his ministrations.

"There," he murmured against her mouth, a sly smile shaping his own. "That wasn't so horrific, was it?"

"Damn you," she whispered, hating how breathless she was. His eyes gleamed, and his voice was a low purr.

"Your blouse. Remove it."

She paused.

This was new. Never had he commanded her to do such a thing; his usual practise was to simply strip her by his own hand, as roughly as he chose. It almost threw her off, and her natural instinct was to defy him, refusal plain on her visage.

"No. I will not –"

She gasped in shock as he slapped her behind, the skin stinging, and his gaze was pointed.

"I will not say it again. Remove the garment. Now."

Slowly, her glare scorching, she reached up to unbutton the blouse, and she pulled it from her body, throwing it aside. She eyed him warily, and he ran his thumb across her bottom lip.

"Good girl."

She raised an eyebrow, unamused, though her body was tingling, and her cheeks were flushed with colour. This was uncharted territory. The context of the slap, the command…

"I am not your 'girl'," she hissed, but he pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her instantly. His other hand moved from where it cupped her behind, trailing fingers up her spine to unclip her brassiere.

"Remove it."

This time she complied, much to his satisfaction, and he leant up to kiss her throat, his tongue flicking the spot which made her gasp and tremble.

"Do you see?" he murmured. "I  _am_  your King, Eva, however much you may try to deny it. You  _will_  obey me, whatever it is I demand of you. And you want this. You  _crave_ subjugation. All of your kind does. And you  _yearn_  for what only I can give you, be it this…" His hand cupped her breast and he toyed with the nipple, "this…" His other hand slipped under her skirt to tease her traitorously swollen nub, "or this."

His teeth bit her neck, hard, and she cried out as pleasure burst from all three of the tortured areas. She arched up, and her hands grasped the back of the seat as her thighs clenched. His chuckle was low and delectably sinister, and his fingers delved into her slick folds, curling and stroking and pumping in and out of her. Had the car windows not been as darkly tinted as they were, passers-by would have seen something quite shocking, and it almost certainly would have made the news. As it was, no-one looking in would see a thing. Eva was panting and mewling, and Loki's eyes were dark with desire. His woman, his lady, freely gasping with need. It was enough to make any man lustful.

His thumb pressed on her clit, circling it, and he was rewarded with a soft, desperate keen and a shaking body.

"Look at me."

Even then she possessed the last shreds of defiance, and his tone lowered to a soft, dangerous velvet.

"Eva.  _Look at me._ "

She did, and his gaze almost made her lose it completely, it was so heated and goddamn sinful. His fingers had never wavered in their rhythm, and she could feel herself tightening like a coil of wire, closer and closer.

He leant up to her ear, his breath tickling the sensitive flesh, and his whisper was triumphant.

"Come for me,  _lítteinn_. Come for your King."

The coil snapped, and she climaxed, a loud cry escaping as the waves of pleasure crested over her, and she found herself trembling like a leaf. She almost groaned as she watched him lift his fingers to his mouth and suck them clean, one by one, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Good."

She had no time to recover before he had freed himself from the confines of his suit trousers – he could see that she was in no state to quickly do it herself – and had lifted her up and onto him. The hard, hot length of him filled her completely, and she shuddered, her need renewed even as aftershocks still reverberated through her.

" _Loki_ …"

The first plea by name in all their couplings. That did not escape him, and he smirked against her lips as his hands deftly unbuckled the belt and tore the skirt from her body in strips, wanting her completely bared to him. She had a figure that, if her position weren't so public, would make him ban her from wearing any clothing whatsoever. _Perhaps the occasional bit of lace or silk,_ he mused, _but otherwise…_

As the car weaved its way through the streets, Loki thrust relentlessly, his hands gripping her behind once more, relishing every gasp, plea and catching of breath he elicited from her. The smell of the leather seats combined with the scent that could only be described as sex was heady, intoxicating, and he let out a growl as his mouth sought her throat once more, marking her for his own.

She was too far gone to even care that he was marking her. She only craved pleasure, gratification, his touch, his kiss, his sex.  _Want. Want. Yes._

"Impatient harlot," he remarked, his voice a rasp, and his hand smacked her rear again, making her moan as the pain mingled with the pleasure.

She did not last long, and he granted her relief then, following swiftly after her with a throaty groan. She was trembling as she leant against him, too weary and somewhat shell-shocked to consider moving off him. His hand lazily trailed along her spine.

"I take it you enjoyed that, my dear."

Eva was quiet, pondering.  _Had_  she enjoyed it? The answer was yes. Immensely. But there was still the thread of loathing that ran through her and refused to untie itself from her. She still felt used. Exactly like a whore.

Well, he  _had_  called her a harlot.

_Goddamn it._

It gradually dawned on her that she was half-lying on a man, in the back of a car, completely naked, still sheathing him, and on her way to meet with politicians.

And her clothes had been near-ripped to shreds.

"Something wrong, my dear?" His voice was entirely too innocent, and she raised her head to look at him accusingly.

"Clothes. You tore them again. And I happened to  _like_  that skirt. You're going to have to mend them before we get to the Palais."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. You know it is. Besides, do you really want all those men eyeing my naked body?"

It was a ploy, but it worked. His eyes flashed, and his fingertips pressed into her waist. She shifted a little, and was rewarded with a flicker of lust in his gaze as her slick walls tightened around him.

He lifted her off him before she could try anything else, and she sat on the seat beside him, a soft sigh escaping her.

_What have I done? I can't keep doing this. I can't. He's the enemy. I am literally sleeping with the enemy._

_And I'm supposed to hate it._

He glanced at her after zipping his trousers back up, and a wry twist of his lips appeared. She looked at him.

"I'm going to need a refill of contraceptive pills soon," she said dryly. He quirked a brow at her.

"Since apparently 'mortal prophylactics' don't work," she added, rolling her eyes. A quiet note of amusement slipped his lips.

"No. They don't."

"And you would know this  _how_?" She suddenly reconsidered, and held up her hand, disgust rippling across her features. " _Wait_! I don't think I  _want_  to know!"

"I do not have children, Eva, you know that. I was referring to other Asgardians with a propensity for bedding mortals. Your modern sheaths are not –"

" _Stop! Just stop_!" Her face was scarlet, and mischief glittered in his eyes as mortification added a pink tint to her body. He chuckled.

"So easily embarrassed…"

"I'd appreciate my clothes back now."

He leant over to kiss her, and his hand cupped her breast, before he smiled against her mouth; as he moved his hand away, Eva found herself dressed in a fitted black dress, with dark green heels and silver jewellery.

"Oh, that's not implying  _anything_ , is it?" she remarked sarcastically, not missing the symbolism of the outfit for a second. He grinned.

"You are mine, Eva. Accept it."

She leant close enough to brush her lips against his, and her accent was a mere whisper.

"Never."

His gaze was alight with mirth, and he pulled back to press the intercom button.

"Take us to the Palais."

* * *

"Monsieur, mademoiselle. Welcome to the Palais des Nations."

It was beautiful, to say the least – but then, this was Switzerland. Famed for its natural beauty – and expensive economy, but money was no object to Loki, it never had been.

The tour was quick but efficient, yet Loki could sense Eva's tiredness, even as she kept her face serene. She was cold, too, though she made no protest; Geneva in late November was not exactly warm. Not wanting her to betray her fatigue, he made excuses about needing to see to the villa, and the two of them were taken straight there.

Eva sighed and unbuttoned her coat, slinging it over the back of a chair, and she began to her way up the elegant staircase, before a hand slipped around her waist, another behind her knees, and to her shock she was lifted in Loki's arms.

"What are you  _doing_? Put me  _down_!"

"I think not." He ascended the stairs without another word, and when Eva began to push at his chest and slap him, he simply rolled his eyes, and she yelped in shock as her wrists were abruptly bound in tight green ribbon. He glanced down, and a sliver of a smirk graced his lips.

"You are weary."

"No. Wait, yes. But that is beside the point.  _Why_  are you carrying me?"

He elevated a brow. "Is the reason not clear? I did not take you for someone so imperceptive, Eva."

"Because I'm  _tired_?" Disbelief coloured her tone. Her eyes narrowed. "Why the chivalry all of a sudden?"

"I cannot have my woman exhausted, can I?" The double doors opened to a beautifully furnished bedroom, and he set her down on the bed, smirking in full now, waving her satin restraints away. "I intend to have you by my side. Looking fatigued will do you no favours. Therefore, you must rest."

He tilted her head up and kissed her so deeply it made her head spin. He broke away, eyes glinting at the slightly dazed expression she wore.

"You are losing, Eva Manning. Just as I said you would. And I haven't even truly tried, yet."

He turned away to look out of one of the windows. "I don't think I have to tell you the obvious. You will have servants to attend to your needs… save the ones that only I can satisfy."

"How long are we staying?"

"As long as is necessary," he replied. "I know not how long this will take. It is a significant political shift, at any rate."

"Switzerland will not take kindly to it," she said calmly. "Just because they are neutral and are the centre of the world's banking systems, it does not mean –"

"Eva, Eva, Eva. Must I always remind you? They will accept it, whatever I command. I am your realm's King. Whatever I wish, occurs." He shot her a look. "You would do well to remember that,  _lítteinn_."

"Remembered. Not accepted."

He laughed quietly. "How typical of you."

"I'm human, I'm naturally stubborn."

He raised a brow. "And yet you yearn for subjugation.  _That_  was evident enough in the car."

She blushed delicately, glancing away.

"Anyone will submit in that way, Loki." Her eyes flitted back to him. "Another test?"

His lips curved. "You might say that."

He moved away from the window.

"I must see to matters. I will return soon. Until then, you are free to roam as you wish. The grounds are quite the spectacle. I am certain you will be able to relax."

He had stolen a kiss before she could even push him away, and with a soft sound of amusement, he vanished.

Eva groaned, and fell back onto the bed.

* * *

The sun filtered through the gaps in the branches to weakly warm her face. It was a cool, crisp afternoon, as was habitual here, and she languidly watched her breath form vapour in the air. She was considerably warmer than she had been the day before, with a thicker coat and a scarf. Loki had not been quite as wrapped up, but then, why should he be? He was naturally of Jotunheim, and more likely than not relished the cold that bit at her feeble mortal skin.

"Dorian Gray?"

Eva rolled her eyes upon hearing that voice, silken and smooth and laced with derision. She placed the bookmark back between the pages, and snapped the volume shut, rising to her feet and turning to look up at the figure lounging on a branch, one long limb dangling. He was dressed simply – black dress trousers that somehow weren't snagging on the rough bark, and a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves.  _Very casual, for him. Suits getting too much, I wonder?_  His smile was teasing, and it surprised her more than a little that there was no mockery in it, only a restful sort of humour.

"Oscar Wilde was a literary genius. Don't you  _dare_  criticise him."

"An opulently-minded mortal's wishful thinking poured into a single novel," Loki idly remarked. "Hardly a revelatory tale."

Her lips thinned; insulting one of her favourite authors was a dangerous move, even for someone as supposedly immortal and indestructible as him. She wouldn't be responsible for the consequences if he continued to do it.

"Aren't you supposed to be dealing with ambassadors right now?" Icy, unamused. His eyes twinkled at her tone, and he looked as though he were enjoying a private joke when he answered:

"I am."

_Oh._ She could have smacked herself in the face; Thor had mentioned Loki's ability to produce doppelgangers all those months ago. Handy trick. But her mind – long corrupted by Loki's tastes in the bedroom – wandered to other, more debauched things, and it was his low chuckle that brought her out of her wanton musings. She glared at him, and his eyes gleamed in response.

"I would have thought that such a 'significant political move' would require your full attention," she commented, swiftly changing the subject and raising an eyebrow. "Leave me be. You said I could relax here yesterday. And guess what?  _You_  aren't that relaxing!"

He laughed. "Perhaps not. But then again, I would not have thought a book on decadence and sin would be that calming, either."

"Should I be surprised that you've read it?"

"I have read much of your realm's literature, even that dreadful volume in your hand."

_That_  stoked her temper.

"It is  _not_  dreadful! The language Wilde uses alone proves that! I don't think you'll find another who writes – or wrote – as poetically as he did!"

His lips twitched. " 'The lady doth protest too much, methinks'."

Her eyebrows knit together and she tilted her head in recognition of the line, her ire abruptly fading.

"Hamlet. Act Three, Scene Two."

"Yes." He dropped from the branch, lightly landing upon the grass. "Shakespeare was a clever individual, I must say. His command of your tongue is unparalleled. As is his understanding of your natures."

Intrigued by this sudden common ground, she furthered the debate.

"You know there are theories that it wasn't him who wrote the works, right?"

He chuckled. "I do. And though there are various pieces of evidence, I doubt highly that he was just the name. The primary candidate, the Earl of Oxford, died years before the last play was written, and any other men who have been suggested – Francis Bacon, for example – have too little substantiation to recommend them. Fascinating though they are, I do not think there is a great deal of stock in the authorship theories."

She smiled dryly. "What do you think of Austen?"

The ghost of a smile adorned his mouth. "Not one who caught my interest for long."

"Shame. There's a film adaptation of Pride and Prejudice which is gorgeous. The costumes are beautiful."

"Yes, I can see why you would appreciate that period's attire." His tone was wry.

"Jekyll and Hyde?"

"A simple yet interesting idea, toying with the concept of human morality. Again, your love of decadence in book-form is showing, Eva."

"Oh, hush."

Loki's brow lifted, and she smirked.

"So, what about Snorri Sturluson?"

His facial expression was priceless.

 


	11. Chapter 11

_Two weeks before_

"Agent Hill is back from Paris, sir."

"Good. Bring her in; I need to know everything she knows."

Maria Hill entered, and Fury gestured to the seat in front of him.

"Take a seat, Agent."

She did, placing the file on the table-top, and Fury leant forwards, interlocking his fingers on the desk.

"Tell me everything you know."

"He hasn't harmed her, at least physically. She looked remarkably…  _healthy_  for someone who is supposedly the prisoner of a megalomaniac."

"Where did you find her?"

"The Louvre. It seems she has a penchant for art." Hill flicked the file open and removed two photographs. "I took these when she was visiting there. It's her, all right."

Fury studied the images, and he looked at Hill.

"His next move?"

"Concerning her? It's hard to say. He hasn't let the press loose on her yet. His motives – aside from maybe keeping her as some sort of amusement – are difficult to determine…" Her gaze slid from the pictures to Fury, who looked less than pleased.

"Amusement?"

There was a weighty silence between them, and a trace of worry could be seen in Hill's eyes.

"I wouldn't put it past him," she said quietly. Fury's eye flickered.

"We need to find her. If Loki has told her anything –"

"Doubtful, sir."

"You've read her file, Agent Hill, you know she can speak his language. That alone was enough to interest him… and perhaps it was a mistake on our part, recruiting her for that reason." Fury glanced away. "We underestimated him."

"And the Avengers?"

Fury's lips thinned.

"Wherever he's put them, we'll find them. Thor is currently in Norway with Miss Foster. I believe they are still trying to mend the Bifrost somehow. Intelligence would suggest that the Avengers are still in New York City. I'm willing to bet he's keeping them close to the chest."

Hill raised an eyebrow.

"The Chrysler?"

"It's possible," Fury admitted. "It wouldn't surprise me."

A shadow crossed Hill's face as a thought, a hideous idea, settled in her mind, and the words felt like a shot of fresh panic.

"Unless he's executed them…"

"No. He hasn't." Fury's conviction eased a little of her alarm, and the adrenaline lessened. "He's the kind that likes to flaunt his success – if that's what you could call this. That's why he chose Stark Tower to open the first portal. Laughing in the face of the man who 'privatised world peace'. The Avengers are alive. And Loki will be mocking them, that's for certain."

Hill nodded. "What would you have me do, sir?"

Fury steepled his hands, his expression calculating.

"We need a distraction."

* * *

Eva sipped at the cup of hot chocolate in her hands. Spiced with a little chili powder, it was perfect, and she sighed as she sat at the table. She flipped the butter knife between her fingers, mulling over her thoughts.

"Troubled?"

The knife was thrown straight towards him, without a moment's hesitation – but, as always, he caught it, an inch from his face, and his lips twitched.

"Your aim is excellent. Your speed… is lacking."

"Not all of us have godly strength and reflexes," she retorted. The twitch turned into a smile, and he set the knife down upon the table.

"Are you still so determined to injure me,  _lítteinn_?"

"Did that determination ever falter?" She looked at him, outwardly calm, though the sight of him in a sleek black suit that simply screamed Armani had her heart thudding. "You threatened my family, dragged me from my home, prevented me from even letting my family know I am alive – I think that should give you your answer."

"Your family know you live; the media alone would tell them that."

"That's not the point and you know it. What the hell are my parents supposed to tell my brother? Less than ten years old – how do you explain that you don't even know if he'll see his sister again?" Disgust rippled across her face. "I'm starting to think you truly are psychopathic. I see a distinct lack of empathy there." She drained the cup, stood and walked around the table. "Whether you ever had any is questionable."

She made to leave the room, but halted. "Oh, and by the way," she said, slowly turning and raising a finger, "if you  _ever_  try to use the Tesseract's power on me… the knife will be faster next time, and I will not miss."

He cocked an eyebrow at the abrupt change of subject.

"Why the sudden defence?"

"You think I'm naïve enough to not believe you're capable and willing to do that? Had you thought I'd forgotten about it?"

He was standing before her in a second, and he ran a fingertip along her jaw.

"My little lioness… why would I do something that takes away the very thing I relish in you?" he murmured. "You would no longer be the biting, spirited creature I so enjoy tormenting."

Loathing mingled with arousal painted her face, and he laughed as she turned away.

"I will ruin you," she said quietly. "I will not stop until you have fallen. Whether figuratively or literally, I care not. But you do not belong here. You are not welcome here. And I will be damned if I don't see you lose. My race is nothing if not tenacious. You may think you've won, but subjugation does not mean acceptance. Just as having a woman climax on your lap does not mean she's completely under your thumb."

She turned on her heel and walked from the room. Loki watched her, a faint smile upon his lips.

"And why would I want my queen to be so spellbound?"

She froze.

"No." The single word was hard on her tongue, a vehement refusal – or was it denial?

Had she turned around, she would have seen the mischief glinting in Loki's eyes. He was toying with her, pushing and pushing. He wondered briefly if he would regret the day he pushed too much. It would be a shame, he decided. Eva Manning was a worthy opponent in terms of verbal fencing. He hadn't had a decent challenger in… well, ever. Asgardians were not noted for their appreciation of intellect, and though Sif had been intelligent, with a tongue like a whip, she preferred physical means of battle. Not that Loki could fault her for that; it was what Asgardian society valued on a whole.

"No?" The mirth in his tone was blatant, and irritation crawled over her.

"You heard me. No. I refuse. I will not stand by you, not when I oppose everything you stand for."

"Oh, but Eva, you cannot refuse the wish of your King."

"Only a mere wish? Or a desire that you would turn into a command?"

He laughed. "Touché."

"Fencing, are we?"

"Did we ever cease to?"

She rolled her eyes, hating the faint curve that shaped her mouth. She might loathe him, but he sated her hunger for wit and clever conversation. The times she gained the upper hand were the ones she relished most, naturally, however few they were.

"You're teasing me."

He chuckled, and she tensed as she felt his hand on the small of her back.

"Am I?"

"You're too arrogant to want a queen. Mistress, concubine, whore, yes. But not a woman who would be considered your equal."

His chuckle became a full laugh, and she found herself pressed back against him, his hand on her stomach. Her brow furrowed; it was unusually…  _affectionate_.

_Very_  unfamiliar territory. She could deal with angry sex, slaps, verbal spats, but  _this_? An  _embrace_?

No.

She was near- relieved when his mouth descended on her neck and left a mark which would bruise. She almost welcomed the slight pain of it. Almost. It was still  _Loki's_ handiwork.

"Did you think I was going to be tender with you?" he murmured. His hand closed on her throat, sending jolts of panic through her spine. "Oh, no, no,  _no_. No. One cannot be tender when taming a lioness."

His fingers flexed, and then he released her. She shot forwards, desperate to be out of his reach, though she did not rub her throat. She wouldn't give him that satisfaction. Instead, she walked away from him.

If only it was for the last time.

* * *

She stood in the conference room, adorned in soft gold, sipping her glass of champagne. Icy cold. Much like her demeanour towards the pretender standing with delegates and politicians. Not that she had spoken much with him. She was conversing with a German diplomat – who had been surprised and genuinely pleased when he began in flawless English and she replied equally fluently in his native tongue. She knew most – like in New York – were expecting her to be a pretty face and nothing more – and she could not deny she relished the opportunity to set them straight.  _After all_ , she thought to herself,  _Loki possesses extreme intelligence; why then would he choose a mindless Barbie to accompany him?_

Eva had no real idea about the politics involved with Geneva, hadn't had a chance to acquaint herself with them. Neither did she really care. It wouldn't help her escape or run from Loki. It was not as if she  _could_  run from him, after all. She knew he was a telepath, and she loathed the invasion of her privacy. Her thoughts were no longer her own, and it rattled her. She could bite back for all she was worth, but he was always two steps ahead of her.

"They say he will make you Queen."

The words were so softly spoken that for a moment she couldn't be sure the diplomat had said them. But one look at the man's eyes, and she knew he had. This one wasn't a believer in Loki's rule. He was risking his life by conversing about this – especially when the god himself was in the room. Loki may have initially known little about Earth's languages, but he had picked up several in less than a year - and German was one of them. The god was also unpredictable, volatile, and was as likely to be charming as he was menacing when meeting any dissenters. Keeping a pleasant smile on her face to alleviate any suspicion, and monitoring her thoughts, Eva spoke, keeping her tone low.

"Impossible. I will refuse. Besides, I am only for show. And he is too arrogant to need a woman like that." She took a sip of champagne. "And I'm not submissive enough. I'd sooner stab him than slip a ring on my finger."

"Hold that thought, Eva Manning. You'll need it," the man spoke, and surprise hit her as she realised his accent was not German at all, but entirely English.

_American_.

It was then the room exploded.

Screams, cries, breaking of glass, the lights were dead, and she felt herself being lifted by someone. Someone whose touch and scent she didn't recognise.  _It's not Loki. It's not him. Get off me!_  She struggled, yelling and swearing, but her captor was strong and easily kept hold of her. And then they were moving. Fast. But someone had blindfolded her, and she inwardly cursed.  _Where the fuck are they taking me?_

Suddenly there was an inhuman roar which chilled her to the bone, raising hairs on her body, and she froze in her fear.  _Run. Move. Anything, just get out_. A second later adrenaline kicked in. She fought hard against her abductor, unable to see anything or guess at where she was being taken, and she hissed as she felt a sharp jab to her neck.

_Shit. No. Don't. Don't you… dare…_

Eva fell into oblivion.

* * *

Word spread quickly.

The Palais des Nations, attacked. Injuries were certain. Deaths were likely. Some hoped for the death of the King, but anyone who had sense knew that Lord Loki would not be brought down by a simple explosion - and as predicted, he emerged unscathed.

So what had been the intention?

The guesses spread just as rapidly. And when Loki returned to New York without Eva Manning by his side, the guesses became truths.

His lady had been taken. The media fell into a collective frenzy, and the newspapers screamed their shock. Loki tolerated their madness the way an adult would a petulant child. After all, he  _knew_  who had stolen her away. It did not surprise him in the least. And he  _let_  them take her. He was curious about their plans, not concerned, and he knew that he could find Eva in a single second if he wished. Quite  _what_  they intended to do with her, however, intrigued and amused him. She knew next to nothing, and unless they wished to gain a detailed account of the times he'd fucked her… His lips twitched, and he turned from the window. His bed would be cold tonight… but there was plenty of time for her to return to it. Plenty of time to make her crave the being who slept in it.

Loki was not by nature a carnal creature. He ruled with his head, kept his baser instincts behind a lock. He had seen the attitudes of the Asgardians, with their hearty drinking, bawdy jests and easy ways. He had never been like that. Of the choice few he had wooed - and wooed well - none of them had been particularly prone to loud and wild habits. Except, of course, when he let go of the leash in the bedchamber. None of these mortal whores had been able to satisfy him – being either too tentative or too brash. And he had no taste for forcing the unwilling. If Eva had not wanted him so – and  _oh_  how she'd wanted him; he could smell her desire from a mile away, even hidden behind those carefully crafted guards of hers – he would not have had her.

He might be a monster, but he was a gentleman. Even in his fractured, tangled consciousness, his princely upbringing still held sway.

Most of the time.

 


	12. Chapter 12

Eva drifted.

In and out. Voices. Some soft, some harsh. She couldn't make out words. Only sounds. She recognised some, but from where she could not say.

Unconsciousness retrieved her for its own.

* * *

**_\- Eight months before -_ **

"Ms Manning, I'd like to introduce to you Thor Odinson of Asgard, brother of Loki."

Eva smiled warmly at the blond behemoth before her, and she offered her hand in greeting. Thor's own smile was genial, and the grip on her hand was surprisingly gentle, given the size of him.

"It's a pleasure, sir," Eva spoke, the god's mother-tongue flowing easily from her, and Thor's smile widened.

"The pleasure is mine, Lady Eva," he replied. Stark looked highly unamused, one eyebrow raising.

"Uh, you speak his language?"

"I do, Mr Stark," Eva responded lightly. "I studied it at university. But you  _know_  I do. I also know you know why Fury asked me to come here." She glanced at the director. "Where are you currently keeping him?"

"In a suitable enough facility," Fury stated calmly. Eva inclined her head, all traces of mirth gone.

"Show me."

Fury gestured to a monitor, and her eyes widened slightly as she gazed at the Norse god pacing about the cage, his expression unreadable. A faint curve could be seen upon Eva's lips, and her voice was soft, marvelling.

"Loki Laufeyson," she murmured. "What are you up to?"

"Laufeyson?" Thor's tone was guarded. "Then you know of his heritage, my lady?"

"He is Loki Laufeyson in the mythology, born a jötunn upon Jotunheim. His father is Farbauti and his mother Laufey," she responded, still studying the figure in the cage. "Or am I to find that the legends have been twisted somewhat?"

"I must tell you they have, my lady."

"Eva. I prefer Eva, if you do not mind."

There was a pause, and light amusement sounded. "As you wish… Eva. But yes, the… myths… have been warped. Laufey was his father –"

"Was?"

"Loki killed him."

She let out a low whistle. "Wow. He felled a frost giant. Impressive. I mean, it might not appear like that to you, with your strength and Mjolnir, but considering he is not… _giant_  in stature…"

"That is a painful topic for Loki. Do not mention his heritage to him. He grew up on Asgard believing he was born an Asgardian, with Odin as his father. He did not discover the truth until recently."

Eva finally turned to look at Thor, calm, methodical.

"Tell me everything I should know. Anything interesting, also."

He did.

* * *

"Does Loki know?"

"Of course he knows, Rogers, are you really that dumb?"

"Stark. Both of you need to stop. Arguing is the last thing we need right now."

For once, the genius-playboy-millionaire-philanthropist did not retort, though he was somewhat preoccupied with the IV in his hand. They all had one, and not without due reason.

Tony Stark did not look like the Tony Stark of eight months ago. Pale, emaciated… a mere shade of himself, with dark circles and the remains of horror lingering in his eyes. He had shaved his lengthy beard off as soon as he could, but it only emphasised how gaunt he truly was.

And grief had shaped him utterly.

He had not believed Loki when the god had thrown the body of Virginia Potts at his feet – Loki was well-known for tricks and bluffs, and he held onto the belief that this was just another of those.

But when Fury had quietly confirmed that they had been sent her body, dead, unmoving… something had snapped in the man. He had requested that they leave him be – soft, devoid of sarcasm, something which greatly worried the director.

If Stark had been affected by Coulson's death... Pepper's passing near- _destroyed_  him. He had not spoken for an entire day – and his angry response to Steve were the first words since he had been told the news.

Silence fell again. Fury was very aware that although these individuals were weakened, they were still – as Bruce had put it all those months ago – a time-bomb. They could all explode any second – confinement hadn't done them any favours in the least.

"Is she awake?" Steve eventually asked, looking from Stark to Fury, his expression a combination of exhaustion, sadness and genuine concern for the 'King's lady'.

"Not yet. She was knocked out by some pretty strong stuff. It's a miracle we managed to get her out without Loki intervening."

"Then you're an idiot," Stark cut in. "If he didn't 'intervene', then he was pretty damn happy for you to take her. Reindeer Games is scheming, Fury. Which means you're in trouble. And I'm in no state to save your ass right now."

"That's enough." Steve glared at Stark. "This is exactly what happened eight months ago. The last thing we need is to be arguing and brawling like this."

Stark looked as though he wanted to retort, but nothing sounded and his eyes closed, his response mute yet heavy with insinuation. Steve gave him one last look before departing. His strength was returning faster than the others, and he had free rein to wander. Bruce, too, was recovering quickly, though he had almost lost control when he discovered what had befallen Stark. No-one had ever seen the doctor so irate. Only the billionaire himself had been able to quell Banner's rage, somehow recognising through his grief the danger of letting 'the other guy' out.

Clint and Natasha were in much the same state as Stark, and as for Thor…

The Norse god sat by Eva's bed, his expression melancholy.

_Oh, my brother. What have you done? What drove you to such madness as this?_

His eyes drifted over the mortal woman's still form, the blonde curls, the pale skin, shapely figure. It was easy to see why Loki had taken an interest in her. Her intellect had impressed Thor, and her fluency in his own tongue – something which he knew must have increased during her month with Loki – was refreshing, if not slightly surprising. Thor had observed Eva's encounter with Loki through a screen, and an unconscious smile had formed then. She near-matched Loki in intelligence, and her unwillingness to back down in the face of Loki's arrogance and menace instantly had Thor looking at her with respect. This was not a woman who scared easily.

"She not awake yet?"

"No," Thor answered, though the evidence was clear.

Clint entered the room, his eyes scanning the sleeping body just as Thor had done, only with more precision, taking in the finer details. The faint bruise at her neck, the slight shadow upon her wrist. Disgust rippled through the archer – clearly Loki thought nothing of manhandling the woman… and the bruise at her neck said everything. Clint may have  _fought_  women in the past – hell, he'd fought the woman he cared for the most – but he had never been so callous or brutal towards innocents. And Eva was a butterfly caught in a spider's web. All she had been brought in for was a conversation. And now she was known as the lady of the King.

"He let her be taken," he murmured. "Whatever he's planning, we'd better be ready for it."

"My brother is not an easy one to predict," Thor replied. "He is always, as you mortals say, two steps ahead of everyone else."

"Tasha caught him out. Once," Clint said, and there was a hint of pride to his tone. "When she was interrogating him about me. Seems your brother is more than a little sexist; I don't think he believed a woman could outwit him."

"No doubt Eva changed that," Thor mused. Clint snorted.

"She said, and I quote, 'I'd sooner stab him than slip a ring on my finger.' He'd be an idiot to underestimate her. Her skills are intellectual, and maybe that's what we need to bring him down. We tried force, and it didn't work. We got locked up for almost three quarters of a year and you were exiled to Norway."

"Self-exiled," Thor corrected quietly. Unable to return to Asgard, he'd been desperate to make sure Jane was safe… but when he arrived, he found a shaking, terrified mess of a woman.

There weren't many times Thor could be accused of hating Loki, but that was one of them.

"Any news on the Bifrost developments?"

"None as yet," the Thunderer responded tonelessly. "But if Loki becomes aware… we will have more to deal with than just a maddened pretender." He glanced at Clint, and his eyes were wary. "Eva must not know of this. Any of it. You know as well as I that Loki works with the mind."

"You think he breached her mind."

"I do not think, I know." Thor looked to Eva, and his expression softened. "I dread to imagine what brutality he has dealt her. He may have been thought of as weak on Asgard, but they were wrong. He is a formidable force, filled with a madness I cannot reason with."

"Could she?"

Thor's brow furrowed. It was a question he had not dared ponder upon, and the answer that came to mind was not the favoured one. "Eva may have been the closest any of us have been to Loki this past month, but I do not believe he is enthralled or adoring enough to listen to her. He has sunk far too deeply into his darkness. I do not have much faith in her, Clint. And she has no wish to reason with him. She despises him enough that she was willing to stab him, as you so said."

"She's a fighter, I'll give her that," Clint said, a hint of amusement lingering. "There aren't many who could go through what she has and come out resistant."

"Indeed," Thor murmured. "If there ever was a one to tame my brother, it would be she."

"I guess we'll know what he did to her when she wakes up."

"She may not say, Clint. And I do not wish to torture the lady. SHIELD will have myself to deal with if they turn towards such a path, you can be sure of that." A warning, plain and simple, and not towards the archer. There were many who were uneasy about having the King's woman on board. The rumours were many, the truths unknown. Guilty by association, one might say. It had been made plain by Fury that if anyone tried to hurt her, they would face consequences.

But it wasn't Fury they feared. If Eva was harmed, word would undoubtedly reach Loki.  _His_  wrath was something to beware, and not without due reason.

"I doubt they'll hurt her, Thor. She's a civilian, and we know that Loki chased her. None of this was her fault," Clint said quietly. "She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. And SHIELD made a mistake. They underestimated Loki's probable interest in her. They are the ones to blame, not Eva."

Thor inclined his head, silently agreeing. He had voiced such an opinion to Fury, after discovering that Loki had caught up to Eva, and angrily. In truth, he had been leery of letting the woman anywhere near Loki, even with a glass cage separating them. Loki was first and foremost a trickster, and Eva was the perfect victim.

"Mr Thor? Sir? Is Eva awake yet?"

Thor's eyes warmed, and he turned his head to see Aidan, Eva's nine year-old brother standing hesitantly in the doorway, expression anxious.

"I am afraid not, little one," he answered. "She still sleeps. But have no fear; I am quite certain she will waken soon."

Aidan gave the warrior god a soft smile. "Okay."

He walked in, his focus entirely on his sleeping sibling, and he sat on the other side of her, eyes moving over her face.

"Where're your parents?" Clint asked the boy gently.

"Talking with Mr Fury," Aidan responded, gaze still on Eva. "They didn't sound too happy, and Mum told me to go explore. So I did."

Typical youngster. It made Thor's lips twitch, and not for the first time did he feel a sense of relief that Loki hadn't caught the boy. Thankfully, Thor had gone to England almost immediately after the fiasco of New York, and he had persuaded Eva's parents to move to safety. Which had meant constantly moving across the globe, until one day Eva's father had put his foot down and demanded security and stability. Fury had stepped in then, and offered them rooms aboard the Helicarrier. It had been SHIELD's fault, and it was only right they try to solve this. Grateful that some sort of constancy had been proposed, Eva's parents had accepted, and they had brought Aidan with them.

"Clint, Fury wants to see you."

Natasha stood in the doorway, expression unreadable as she took in the scene before her. She had never felt particularly maternal; children had never factored in her life. Her eyes swivelled to the archer, who left without a word, though he covertly clasped her fingers, just for a second, before departing. Natasha gave Thor and Aidan a nod, her expression betraying nothing of Clint's touch, and then she too walked away, leaving the warrior and the boy alone.

"Thor?"

"Yes?"

"Why is your brother hurting the world?"

It was a question borne out of innocence, yet it tugged at Thor's heart. Why, indeed. He knew the answer, and he knew that it would touch a part of Aidan. He was aware of Aidan's parental situation, and he was in no doubt that Loki was also aware. It was why Aidan had been brought here; it was not only Thor who believed that Loki would try to use the boy, manipulate him to toy further with Eva.

"Loki… Loki feels he has been wronged. He seeks revenge for what has been done to him," Thor explained, trying to make it simple for the boy to understand. Aidan caught his lower lip between his teeth as he mused over that information, before turning his head to look at Thor.

"What happened to him?"

Here, Thor halted. To give the child too much information could be dangerous, and if Loki found out just what his elder brother had divulged… it would only worsen the divide between them.

"He… he discovered that he was adopted. It had been kept from him for his entire life."

Aidan was silent for a moment.

"But  _I'm_  adopted. And I don't feel like smashing things and taking over the world," he reasoned, suddenly seeming far wiser than his age. "My mum and dad love me. Don't his love him?"

"They do. Very much," Thor said softly. "But he cannot see that. It is also for the reason that he was adopted from a race that most of my people… dislike. He himself was brought up to be suspicious of them, and when he realised that he was one… it was difficult for him."

"Oh." Aidan fell to contemplation again. "That must have been hard for him."

"Yes," Thor concurred quietly. "It was. It is."

"Will things get better between you?"

Thor let slip a gentle smile. "I have faith."

A comfortable stillness emerged between he and the boy, and inwardly, Thor marvelled at just how calm and caring Aidan was. A direct contrast to Loki. Aidan knew he was adopted, had been brought up knowing.

Thor couldn't help but wonder whether Loki would be any different if Odin had been straight with him from the beginning.  _Having an equal sense of entitlement to the throne had been a mistake on the All-Father's part_ , Thor pondered. He could not understand why Odin had done such a thing. It was at the root of Loki's hatred and insanity, that he believed he should have a throne to sit upon. In reality, he did, but Jotunheim was a place Loki had attempted to destroy, so strong was his loathing for that species of giant. Thor did not think it likely that Loki would ever take up Laufey's crown.  _A throne would suit you ill_ , he had once told Loki. Were those words still true?

_Yes_ , his heart murmured.  _Loki was never meant to rule. Power corrupts men such as him. And this world does not want a king. My brother must be taken back to Asgard._

The aim was there. The method, however, had not even been decided upon. The Avengers were still too weak. Eva was not yet awake. And Loki was stronger than he had ever been.

Thor had heard that humans often prayed for miracles. Before, he had never quite comprehended why. Now, though, he understood perfectly, and as he watched over the sleeping girl, he could not help but silently beg for one.

In any shape or form.

 


	13. Chapter 13

In the shadows, he watched. Time ago he had stated that he was weary of scuttling in such shade, but even he could not deny that darkness had its uses. Such as now. Were he human, the sensors would have detected him instantly, but magic won here, and he was cloaked to all. His eyes gleamed, the light of the corridor catching them, and they never wavered from the figure lying still in the bed, her blonde hair spread out upon the pillow. It was night, and she had been left alone, guards standing outside her door.

In case any SHIELD operatives took it upon themselves to exterminate the 'threat'. Loki could not hold back an amused smile at that. Eva was a victim of circumstance, nothing more. She knew nothing of his schemes, nothing of importance. Killing her would achieve nothing, save igniting his icy wrath. She was his. If anyone were to end her life, it would be him, and no other.

Loki walked over to the bed, standing by her resting form. He sat on the edge of the mattress, and his fingers felt her pulse. Strong, defiant, typically her. His fingertips slid down her collarbone to trace her heart. How easy it would be to sink his fingers beneath the skin, through flesh and sinew, and tear out that which beat so boldly. Simple, uncomplicated, and she would be a bother no more.

But he would no longer have a challenge on his hands. No one to converse with, no one fearless enough to argue with him. Was it respect he had for her? Perhaps. Like all other mortals, he had expected her to submit, and submit rapidly. Yet she was a strange one, holding the belief that he would fall and humanity would triumph over him. He had yet to alter her mind, bring her willingly to her knees… but he was in no hurry. Prolonging it would only make victory all the sweeter. He ran his thumb down between her breasts, feeling the join of her ribs.  _Breakable. So very breakable. All I need do is simply press down, and the bone will crack. Such a pathetic defence mechanism._

He withdrew his hand, and he vanished from the room.

Eva's eyes flew open, and she sat up.

"Loki," she gasped, gazing around almost wildly as her senses screamed; every hair raised up, and her body tingled with warning.  _He was here. I know it. But… where is 'here'?_

She glanced around again, and the clinical setting sent foreboding skittering over her spine.  _Shit_. She looked down, feeling a tug at her skin, and she gave a hiss as she saw the IV piercing it. Needles didn't bother her, but it was the fact that one had been used. She felt like an experiment; it was almost like the Matrix. Except this… this was entirely too real. The unflattering gown, the slight taste in her mouth, of sleep and metal. Cursing, she swung her legs over the side of the bed – and a wave of dizziness hit her.

Right at the same time the memories did.

"The diplomat," she whispered, and her eyes flashed. "Geneva."

The door slid open then, and her head jerked to the sound, her pupils dilating. A figure stood in the doorway as the lights began to flicker on, and her gaze narrowed as tension set her posture.

"You bastard."

Fury came into the room and sat in the chair, his expression unreadable.

"Ms Manning, I would not advise you to start getting angry. You wouldn't have the worst of… reactions, but it won't do you good –"

"He had me on edge for  _months_ ," she hissed. "I thought I was  _safe_! What happened, Fury? All I was brought in for was a talk with the psychopath – and the next thing I know he's threatening my family! He forced me to move to New York, for god's sake! I had no idea what to do! And you used me as bait." Her voice became icily cold then, and it would have made a lesser man shrink back in apprehension. " _Bait_ , Fury. You  _knew_  he wouldn't be able to resist my skills. If you have anything to say, by god it had better be good. Because I am  _this_  close to losing it. Dr Banner might be a force to be reckoned with, but he was not the one at Loki's side for a month. He wasn't the one dressed up and fucking told to make nice with the politicians and the celebrities."

From the surveillance room on the bridge, the Avengers watched silently, and Eva's parents sat in horror. Aidan had been kept away – they had guessed Eva's words would be less than clean – and various SHIELD operatives under the watchful eye of Maria Hill were entertaining him. As for the rest of them… Eva's words chilled more than a few, and only Natasha remained impassive. Thor was sickened, and even Stark was quiet, though few could blame him. Pepper still weighed heavy upon the billionaire's mind, and he rarely spoke at all.

Fury fought a sigh, which he knew would only infuriate her further, and he steepled his fingers, elbows resting upon the arms of the chair.

"We underestimated him," he said. Eva scoffed, crossing her arms.

"Oh, you  _think_? He's quite  _literally_  an evil genius; did it not occur to you that he might like something or someone to mess around with? No?" She stood up, her countenance still glacial. "I'd appreciate some clothes and food now, if you don't mind. And I hope to high heaven you burned that gold thing. God knows I hated that dress."

Fury's lips twitched, but he nodded, gesturing. "There are clothes in the closet there. Food will be brought to you. When you're ready, we can debrief you. I'd imagine a month without much outside contact must have been pretty damn strange."

Without another word, Fury departed from the room, and Eva sank down onto the bed. She hadn't even comprehended that she was shaking, and it was then that the realisation began to truly dawn upon her.

She was out. Free from her prison, free from  _him_. SHIELD had risked far too much getting her out, and yet… A chuckle fell from her lips, promptly followed by another, and another. It grew into full scale laughter, born out of sheer relief, and she lay back on the bed, hands covering her face as the pent-up emotions tumbled from her, and she sighed, a wide smile gracing her features, the first real, true smile in over a month.

She found herself showering with honest pleasure, knowing that Loki couldn't taint her, couldn't use her as and when he wanted. Memories flashed, of slick tiled walls, warm against her back. His teeth sinking into her flesh, his body lifting her, pinning her, arching up and inside her. Her fingers touched her neck; the last bite-mark was still there, she could feel it. Throbbing, and her cheeks flushed as she realised she had no viable way of hiding it from anyone.  _Goddamn it._

Minutes later, and she was dressed in a simple t-shirt and jogging bottoms. Not the most stylish outfit – but by god, did it feel good to wear something she could relax in, and in that moment she appreciated it all far more than the jewels and the dresses and the sinful underwear.  _Couture can go fuck itself,_  she thought with a satisfied smile. Someone had brought in a tray of food while she was showering, and she poured a glass of water first, relishing the cool liquid running down her throat. The sandwich tasted like manna; she truly had missed simple sustenance, simple things. Loki may have been a prince, and thus used to luxury, but  _she_  was only a person out of billions, raised to value the small things and be mindful of money. She had never wanted for much – and relief flickered when she realised her time with Loki had not changed that in the least.

That frightened her then. The idea that Loki could  _change_  her. And it was one that she instantly rejected. No. She was her own person, as she had told him countless times. One psychopath did not a willing trophy make.

Slipping her feet into a pair of boots which somehow fit her perfectly – she realised they must have taken her measurements while she slept, and that made her skin crawl – she made her way to the doorway. It slid open with the touch of a button, and she tentatively stepped out, suddenly nervous. SHIELD may have saved her, but she wasn't naïve enough to believe that everyone on this ship pitied or sympathised with her. There were very probably some who wanted nothing more than to see the King's lady dead. She knew there were plenty who thought she was willing, that she enjoyed sharing a king's bed.

_If only they knew the truth._

The guards outside her door nodded their heads at her.  _Not too hostile,_  she thought, relieved.

"Ms Manning!"

Eva turned – and she smiled as she saw the first truly friendly face in months.

"Hello, Steve."

"Ma'am." He gave her a gentle smile devoid of the suspicion she had expected to see on many agents' faces. "How do you feel?"

"Free," she said, given then to complete honesty. "Utterly free. It's a good feeling."

Steve's eyes warmed, and he gestured. "Shall we?"

"Fury wants to see me, doesn't he?" she spoke dryly. "For 'debriefing'. In other words, extracting whatever information he can from me. He's going to get very little; Loki didn't exactly share his plans for the future of this world. He knew I couldn't be trusted."

"They won't ask you too much," Steve reassured her as they began to walk. "You've been through a lot. I guess they're quite surprised that you were still so defiant. The agent who spoke to you in Geneva certainly was. 'Rather stab him than slip a ring on my finger'. That made it pretty clear." There was a grin in his tone, as if he were proud of her. "You're stronger than they thought."

"Why'd they even bother to get me out?" she asked, silently noting the stares of the other agents, and forcing herself to remain impassive. "I'm only a civilian."

"You had access to Loki. You've been the closest anyone's got to him – and you were with him a  _month_. You know things about him –"

"So does Thor."

"True, but you're not related to Loki. You don't have a personal history that would influence your statements. Thor loves his brother, he will say very little in the way of hate about him."

"Good point. I suppose he still thinks Loki can be redeemed." The cynicism in her tone made Steve's lips twitch, and he sighed.

"Thor is Thor. Single minded and stubborn. A good heart, but he is unchangeable in his faith that Loki will come around."

"Not likely."

Steve said nothing, and they walked in silence for a few seconds before he glanced at her, and his voice was soft.

"It's good to have you back, Eva."

She smiled up at him, and then they paused in step as they reached the bridge. Steve moved forwards to open the door of the conference room, and as it slid in, he gestured once more.

"Ma'am."

"You really don't need to call me that," she laughed softly, and stepped inside, her heart tightening and spine tingling with apprehension.

She froze.

"Ms Manning, good of you to join us."

Eva paid no attention to Fury's words, for her attention was fixed upon the couple that had shot to their feet, the widest of smiles gracing their tired features. Shock ran through her, followed by sheer disbelief and utter joy as her mother and father moved to embrace her.

It hit Eva then, and she started laughing, hugging her parents tightly as her mother began to cry with relief and her father simply held her close.

"I thought he'd taken you," Eva said shakily, swallowing back the lump in her throat. "Both of you. I didn't – I couldn't call you, I couldn't even say where I was going. I'm so, so sorry, I –"

"Don't. It wasn't your fault," her father reassured her with a gentle smile; he always had been the calmer of the two, and though his eyes were shimmering with tears, they did not fall. Her mother was the one who was more easily given to emotion, and this time it was no different. "Are you alright?"

Eva nodded. "I'm as good as I can be." There was more she wanted to say, but upon realising that the Avengers were also in the room, she held her tongue. The less SHIELD knew about her… intimacy with Loki, the better. She might want Loki dead, but she wasn't willing to divulge information  _that_  personal.

Her father's eyes scanned her face – and then they alighted upon the bruise upon her throat. His gaze instantly filled with fire, and his voice rippled with suppressed anger as his protective nature kicked in.

"What did he do to you, Eva?"

Eva shook her head, suddenly uncomfortable with the many pairs of eyes set upon her. "Not now, Dad. Please. Not here. I just woke up; I'd rather not talk about this yet."

He opened his mouth to speak – but he was interrupted by a delighted cry, and it was one that Eva recognised very, very well.

" _Eva_!"

_Aidan_. Eva spun around, and her little brother rushed like a hurricane into her arms, throwing his own around her as he almost bowled her over in his enthusiasm. Eva's smile was wide, elated as she steadied herself, and she held him tight, pressing kisses to his head and cheeks.

"I missed you, kiddo," she whispered, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat. "I'm so sorry I went away. Think you can forgive me?"

"Yeah," came the candid response. "You can even have my ice cream, if you want."

She laughed, and pressed a final kiss to the top of his head, before straightening, her heart lighter than it had been for weeks. Aidan smiled up at her, almost mischievous in his happiness – and she felt calmer now. That semblance of normality, almost. She had her parents back. She had her brother with her. And Loki was miles from here.

Life had never tasted so sweet.

"Were you really in New York? And then France?" Aidan asked, his eyes aglow with interest. Eva inclined her head, unable to resist a small tilt of her mouth.

"I was. Mostly New York, but I visited France for a little bit. And then back to the Big Apple."

"You stayed in the big skyscraper, right?" he continued, oblivious to the just-as-intrigued audience the two of them had. Eva was well aware that Fury and the Avengers were wondering just how much she would tell the boy, and whether they could use it. Not that she would disclose much, she certainly had no intention of doing so.

"If you mean the Chrysler, then yes," she replied, and added, somewhat amused as the memory of the drive from the airport to the building in question resurfaced in her mind, "not the Empire State."

"Oh. Okay."

Eva ruffled his hair affectionately. "I'll tell you more later, alright? And you can tell me what you've been up to while I was gone."

Aidan nodded. His excitement was fading; he had his sister back, and though he knew things were wrong, he was intelligent enough to realise that neither his sister nor his parents wanted to talk about them. Not in front of the people called 'The Avengers'. He simply hugged Eva once more, beamed, and disappeared back around the corner – presumably to whatever had been distracting him before. Eva watched him go almost wistfully; even throughout this, he still possessed some childlike innocence. How grateful she was that Loki hadn't got his hands on her brother. Heaven only knew what he would have done to the boy.

"Eva?"

She snapped out of her reverie at the sound of her name called by her father, and she turned.

Everyone was watching her, some curiously, some cynically – and Thor looked nothing but guilty. Ashamed.

"Thor, I don't blame you," she said quietly. "There was nothing you could do."

The god looked at her, expression sombre. "I let him win. I failed, Eva. He was my responsibility, and I let him out of my grasp. I  _am_  to blame, my lady, I ask that you do not insist otherwise."

She met his gaze gently, and knew instinctively that any persisting would get her nowhere. Instead her lips curved slightly, surprising him a little.

"Alright. I won't insist. On one condition."

His eyebrow cocked.

"Name it."

"Quit calling me 'my lady'."

Thor stared at her, and then the corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled.

* * *


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning - there are mentions of rape in this chapter. So if you are easily triggered, take care reading this - or skip this chapter if you are really concerned.

"Have a seat, Ms Manning."

Wary, Eva sat, her parents returning to their own chairs. She crossed one leg over the other, her hands laced upon the table. Now that the greetings had been made, and her brother out of the room… the grilling could begin.

She was not looking forward to it.

"I want to make it clear that there are things I am not willing to tell, not under any circumstances," she said quietly, steadily, eyeing Fury in particular. "Respect that, please."

The director said nothing, merely nodded once, slowly. "Alright." He steepled his fingers, sat back in his chair. "Start from the beginning."

She was silent, measuring her words. Where to start… "He visited me a week after the restaurant incident. I'm sure my parents," she glanced at them, "have told you about that."

"They told me it happened. What they didn't tell me was what he did. Or said," Fury replied, his eye flickering.

"He threatened me. In his usual psychotic way. I won't deny it frightened me, but I'd rather not divulge the details. It happened months ago, it matters no longer." She sighed, and tapped her fingers on the table as she mused, pondered over how to phrase the memories in her mind. It was difficult at best, particularly because of the amount of editing she was having to do.

"He was surprisingly civil. I suppose I had been expecting him to threaten me again, but he did neither, when I encountered him again."

"Was this in New York?" Fury questioned. She inclined her head.

"He told me to pack my things. I was taken to the Chrysler the next morning."

"What happened then?"

A wry smile curved her mouth, taking a few aback, and a note of amusement fell from her lips.

"Dinner. As I said, surprisingly civil. Well, until we were well into the conversation, that is."

Eva was being deliberately evasive. It was not due to any semblance of loyalty to Loki – she would never be loyal to him,  _that_  she was quite certain of. No. It was because she didn't trust SHIELD. Rescued her they had, but they were an intelligence agency. They wanted to know the deepest, darkest secrets that she held deep within her mind. She had been Loki's supposed puppet, and now the strings had been cut, she was free to spill all.

But only an idiot would believe such strings had been truly severed.

Loki was a master of things humanity could barely comprehend, much less wield. It was likely that he knew exactly where she was, and was simply biding his time – or toying with her. Nothing could restrain Loki for long. Not even that cage, designed to hold the strongest and most violent creature alive, had failed to keep Loki imprisoned. And knowing Loki, he had simply walked out.

Eva had not been anywhere near the cage when he had escaped – but she had seen the footage, seen Thor try to convince his brother to cease it all. Of course it failed. Thor was dropped thirty thousand feet below, and Loki set his sights on New York.

And when that had succeeded, he set his sights on the world.

"Eva?"

Pulled from her internal musings once more, she tapped the table twice, and glanced at Thor.

"I don't trust them." It was spoken in the language of Asgard, and Thor's expression did not change as he listened. "The circumstances with your brother… I've no doubt SHIELD would try to force me to divulge them. And I cannot let that happen."

"Ms Manning." Fury's voice cut through the exchange, and his expression was not one of amusement. "I would appreciate it if you spoke in a language we  _all_  understand."

"And tell you everything I know?" she responded, tongue heavy with sarcasm. " _You_  must understand, sir, that I am a very private person. I am under no obligation to speak about anything to you. The media will tell you all that is necessary for you to know. I'm certain the moniker of 'King's lady' will give you a fair few clues."

"So it's true?" Natasha asked coolly, though her eyes briefly flickered. "You were his plaything?"

If Eva had looked at her parents, she would have seen ashen faces and sickened expressions. As it was, she could not bring herself to do it at all, and she stood up.

"Don't ask things you already know the answer to," she said quietly. "You can only hold off a hunter for so long."

Eva turned away, and walked out of the conference room, leaving an uneasy silence in her wake.

She found herself walking to where the cage had once been suspended. All that was left was a gap, and she sat on a ledge, gazing out below. Even now, the memories rushed to remind her. The surprise on his face upon her linguistic revelation. The sudden smile, one that sent shivers down her spine. The intent in his eyes, cold and predatory. She sighed, running a hand through her hair. What he had done… her life was a shambles. Pursued relentlessly by the media, separated from loved ones for a month, threatened and abused by a man who proclaimed himself a god. The idea of returning to her former life was laughable. And it was her own damn fault, really. She had accepted the offer, gone to SHIELD's headquarters, encountered the psychopath.

And now she had no idea what to do. She was in no way willing to discuss the events of the past month, not with anyone. Not even her own parents. The looks on their faces at Natasha's blatant insinuation had convinced Eva that it was one conversation she did  _not_  wish to have. They all assumed it was rape. In a way, one horribly twisted way, Eva wished it were, because at least then she could be blameless. The truth was, she was ashamed of what she had done. He had pushed her, played her, toyed with her. Played upon her desires, teased them out of her and driven her near mad. She had not meant to smash that wineglass, nor tear at his shirt as if she was a woman possessed, but he had taunted and pressed her. His silver tongue had weaved suggestions, assertions – ones that she could not deny.

She might regret her actions, but she had been left sated and pleasured like no other. Loki had known exactly which buttons to push, both intimately and intellectually. Eva would be lying if she claimed he did not intrigue her – yet at the same time, she wanted to put as much distance as she could between the two of them.

Though the minute she stepped out in public…

Eva groaned aloud, her head falling into her hands.  _Damn you, Loki. Damn you to Hel._  She barely cared if he could hear her – in truth, she felt like screaming at him. The bastard.

She'd told Steve she felt free, but now, after the euphoria had passed… she was still stuck. Still held. It wasn't Loki, true, but she was still stranded here. Freedom, she realised bitterly, was something that was unlikely to arrive any time soon – and certainly not while Loki still reigned on this earth.

_Is this what you wanted? Not to break me, but make me unsteady? Unsure? I can't leave. I can't go home. This is as much a prison as you were. Only here I am stripped, laid bare. With you I was masked and… protected._

Horrified, she physically flinched at that notion. That Loki was the protector. It was a thought only a madwoman could think. Had he taken her mind and twisted it to suit his own will?

_No. I am my own woman, as I told him. He will not influence me so. Never. And he admitted he would not use the sceptre to shape my mind._

_That doesn't mean I believe him, though._

One thing she did know. Her parents and her brother could not stay here. It was too disruptive, and Aidan had no other children to play with. They had to go home. That, and this was something Eva wanted the three of them far away from. She had no desire to involve her family in this problem of hers. Loki had an interest in Aidan, but she knew it was only because they were both adopted. He was intrigued by the love her parents had for the little boy, and she guessed that deep down he resented it. From what Thor had told her, Frigga and Odin  _did_  love their youngest son. Perhaps Loki was simply too blinded by hatred and bitterness to see it. Eva was aware that she could not judge; she knew very little of the subject, and in reality had no wish to learn more. For all her fascination with Norse deities, Loki's was a past she had no desire to delve into. He was too complex to untangle, with prejudices and dislikes that went far deeper than Eva could ever hope to fathom. He was a centuries-old being –  _a psychologist's field day_ , she thought, somewhat wryly, reminiscing upon her first meeting with Loki.  _Freud would have loved him._

Soft footfalls drew her out of her thoughts, and she turned her head as Thor sat beside her, his legs dangling over the ledge. Eva did not speak, only turned her head back, staring out at the empty space. She felt guilty for ignoring him, but she had nothing to say. Certainly not to the brother of Loki.

"Did he hurt you?" came the Thunderer's surprisingly gentle tone, in the tongue only she and he knew. "Has he harmed you, Eva?"

She closed her eyes, biting her lip. "Not… not badly. I'm sure mortal authorities would have had him locked up for what he's done, but he  _isn't_  mortal. He can't be judged like that."

"What did he do?"

At once her guards went up, and her expression turned careful. "Please don't ask that of me, Thor."

"Eva."

"No. I can't. Not to you. Not to anyone. How would I even begin?" She finally turned back to him, her expression almost desperate. "You all saw the bruise on my throat. I've no doubt SHIELD's seen the rest of my body. I've no desire to speak about that, certainly not to an intelligence agency. I don't trust them, as I told you."

"Eva, if my brother has violated you –"

"You'll what? Throw Mjolnir at him? You tried that before, and did it work? No. You can't fight a man like him with force, Thor. He isn't one for physicality. That's why I interest him; I use my mind, my intellect. From what he's told me, Asgard doesn't exactly value such a quality. Was he right?"

Thor was quiet for a moment, and then his eyes slid to hers.

"I cannot deny that Loki's talents have been… disregarded," he admitted softly. "He is not a natural warrior, and so he has been, as you mortals say, side-lined. I wonder now if our jesting hurt him enough that it led to this."

"It wouldn't surprise me," Eva muttered. "It seems all he wants is a place to belong; upon finding none on Asgard, he turned to Earth, and sought to shape it to somewhere he _did_  belong to."

"And he found a kindred spirit in you."

Eva laughed humourlessly, shaking her head. "Oh, no. No. He is only intrigued because I can hold a conversation with him without my hands trembling with nerves. He does frighten me, Thor; I won't deny that. I'd be a fool if I didn't fear him. He's dark, he's dangerous – and not in a sexy, erotic novel kind of way. He could kill me in a heartbeat. Some women might get a kick out of that – but I'd prefer to sleep with a man who didn't have that power. I couldn't live my life on the edge like that, I want my peace; I want my quiet. I was content enough until Loki came into the picture. And now he's literally turned everything upside down. Some women could probably handle a god – look at Jane, for example, she seems pretty damn capable with you – but I couldn't. I'm tired, Thor. Tired of your brother's shit. And god, how I want to slap the smirk right off his face. I don't usually get violent urges, but Loki seems to bring them out in me. What does that say about us, hm? It's not healthy, this cat-and-mouse game. Someone's going to end up broken… or worse." She gazed out below, and her next words were edged with iron.

"And I'll be damned if it's going to be me."

* * *

Two days. She had been on the Helicarrier for two days. And not a single dream or visit from Loki… none that she had been aware of, anyhow. Only the impression that he had been there moments before she had woken up the first time on the Helicarrier, that she had gasped his name… and then seen nothing.

Was he trying to give the impression that she was worthless to him? That would be useless in itself. Eva knew how engaged Loki could be in their conversations, how amused she seemed to make him… not to mention the intimacy. Even a god could be affected by a show of skin. He might act nonchalant, but she knew she had him fascinated. And perhaps she could use that to her advantage. Anything too unsubtle and he would suspect. But anything too slight and he might miss it.

The only problem was whether she could keep her own emotions out of it. Eva might despise the god, but her body's reaction to his touch… it was nothing short of infuriating.

She knew that unless she could get a better grasp on such reactions, she would succumb every time, something she would despise. Losing control like that was not on her to-do list.

Eva knew that Loki had contacted SHIELD. Not even Fury could hide that from her, however much he might have wanted and tried to. It showed in everyone's faces, their eyes especially. Loki was not one to leave anyone unshaken or undaunted. Even the director was on edge – for once, SHIELD, for all their skills, did not have the upper hand. America had fallen months before. Russia was being split into two. Britain, Japan, China… all the superpowers were held under Loki's thumb. Weaponry was useless against him, and the Chitauri were brutal to dissidents.

As of now, she knew that Fury and the Avengers were conversing with the god. She had purposely been kept out of the room, much to her annoyance, but she could hear the discussion going on through her earpiece. The earpiece had been a surprise; but Fury's reasoning was that anything Loki said, Eva might recognise or be able to dissect. That, and the director was perfectly aware that if Eva asked, Thor would tell. Trying to hide everything would irritate her, and amuse Loki. And an amused Loki was almost twice as dangerous.

So she was standing in the corridor outside the conference room, leaning against the wall – and what she could hear did not delight her in the slightest.

"You know what I want, Nicholas. Or, more precisely, who."

Loki's eyes glittered on the large screen in the room, and he spoke again.

"You have someone of mine. I would very much like her to be returned to me."

Eva rolled her eyes at that; his possessive nature had always grated on her, and she fought a grimace.

"That's it," she spoke into her com-link, ignoring Fury's previous instructions to stay away. "I'm coming in."

She turned the corner, and walked down the corridor. She stood in the entrance of the conference room, and slowly descended the steps, her boots sounding upon each one. Loki's eyes flickered, and a smile shaped his mouth as the Avengers turned to her, their expressions ranging from uneasy to warning.

"Eva." Her name rolled from his tongue with consummate ease, laced with sin and pleasure and everything that screamed wickedness and that which would have made a more virtuous woman blush head to foot.

But Eva had lost that kind of purity months ago.

"Hello, darling." She appeared utterly unfazed, and sat in a chair, lazily revolving to face him, crossing one leg over the other. "Did you miss me?"

Her calm demeanour was suddenly broken by a sly smile as she drank him in. "Ah, it's my favourite suit. The Armani? You shouldn't have."

Amusement lingered in Loki's eyes as he took in her and the countenances of the people surrounding her, ranging from wariness (Fury) to pure shock (Steve).

"I cannot say the same about your apparel," Loki replied dryly. Eva raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, well, seeing as most of my clothing is still with you in the Chrysler, fashion choices are somewhat limited. Fancy gowns are not at the forefront of my concerns, Loki."

"Clearly not."

Any normal person might have seen two people sassing each other. As it was, Loki was not normal and he did not sass. He threatened. Whether outright or subtly, the menace was always there. Always. And Eva could see it, even as she sat there miles away from where Loki rested in his favourite armchair.

"So tell me, Loki," she began, faux-lightly, "exactly why are you bothering to contact SHIELD? I am only, after all, a mere mortal. Surely a god such as you would tire of someone like me. Or am I wrong? Can it be that you are so fascinated by the woman who isn't afraid to bite back at you? Hm?"

Unknowingly, Eva had slipped into Old Norse. This did not escape Loki's notice, nor that of their audience, whose eyes were wide and bemused – and wary. Loki was simply entertained. His little lioness, biting back, as she had said.

Privately he thought to himself that he had missed this. It had only been two days, true, but they had been inordinately dull without her attitude and cynicism. Oh, power was seductive, and he basked in the knowledge that an entire realm was his… but knowing that there was someone who did not cower in fear when in his presence was both intriguing and amusing. Particularly when this someone was not in the least trained in any capacity to kill or maim. She relied simply on her words to wound.

"Are you bored, Eva?" he asked, tilting his head. "Two days shut up in that floating fortress, without any of your belongings. It must be torture. Particularly considering no one on that vessel trusts you. And why should they? After all… you are mine. Who knows what I have done to your mind?"

Eva's eyes narrowed. "You have not done anything to it."

"Is that so? I see… Some changes are imperceptible to the individual's mind, you know. Even you cannot recognise them… but I see that our audience has… Am I right, Fury?"

Suddenly confused, Eva looked to the director for an explanation. Fury's expression was grave, and Eva turned back to Loki, whose eyes were alight with mirth.

"The moment you entered this room," Loki said calmly, "you did not speak a single word of English. Instead, you spoke the language of Asgard – and you were not even aware of it, Eva Manning. So. Can you really sit there and claim I have not changed you? Can you?"

Her eyes widened as the truth dawned, and Loki could see her mind scrambling to deny it, to declare otherwise. But she had seen Fury's face, and as she glanced around to the others, Loki could observe the realisation settling upon her countenance. Anger emerged upon it, and he relished the glare she directed towards him.

"Do not think I will return to you, Loki," she hissed, consciously using English now. "I am not yours."

"And you would rather be surrounded by liars and killers, would you?"

"Speak for yourself," she retorted. "God of lies. Chaos. I won't say mischief, because what you've done is much worse. How many lives have been lost because of you? Innocent lives, Loki! How can you sit there and say your rule will make everything better? How?" She was standing now, seething. "You cannot try to reign over seven billion people, Loki. Don't you see what you are doing? Suppressing the human race simply because you want to shape this world into a place you belong to!"

And then her expression calmed, and her eyes flickered as she continued, softer now.

"Asgard disregarded you and Jotunheim abandoned you. That is all this is, isn't it? You're lost. You have nowhere to go." She looked at him. "Then I pity you, Odinson. Or is it Laufeyson? No. It's Loki. Just Loki. Not even Loki of Midgard. You will never belong in this world. You don't fit. Dominating us will not make you feel at home any more than destroying Jotunheim would."

There was utter silence. Loki's expression was unreadable, and Thor was aghast as his gaze swivelled between Loki and Eva. The mortal was treading a thin line. The Thunderer had warned her countless times not to walk it, but she insisted on pushing. Hel only knew what Loki would do to her now.

But there was nothing. No rage, no sorrow. Only an indecipherable visage.

The screen went black.

Taken aback, Eva stared at the screen, before turning around to face the others.

"He's not indestructible," she addressed them all quietly. "You simply have to find his weak spot. In this case, it is his heritage."

Without another word, she walked from the room, throwing down her earpiece as she went.

 


	15. Chapter 15

Eva walked. Through corridors, through doorways, until she came to the room that she could supposedly call hers. She hurried inside, and turned around to lean back against the wall, closing her eyes.

"It seems Thor disclosed more than I thought."

Eva jumped, and her eyes shot open. Loki was sitting upon her bed, glancing with a distasteful expression at his surroundings.

"You  _were_  here," she said quietly. "Before I woke…  _why_?"

He did not immediately answer, but he slowly turned his head to look at her – and his gaze chilled her blood. Dressed in the suit that she knew meant business, he could not have looked more dangerous.

"I had to ensure SHIELD would not defile that which is mine."

"How many times must I get this into your obstinate head?  _I am not yours._ Nights in your bed do not make it so. Would you claim a mortal concubine as yours? No. You have them, and disregard them. So why can you not do the same for me?"

In a split-second, Loki was up off the bed, and she fought not to panic at his fingers grasped her jaw. His thumb leisurely caressed her cheek, and he leant down to whisper in her ear.

"You are no concubine, Eva. Do not debase yourself so."

"Oh, so I have  _worth_  now?"

"You are the King's lady. I should think you do indeed have worth." His lips ghosted over her rapidly colouring skin, and she tensed, her fingers gripping his suit jacket. This could not happen. Not again.

"Loki…"

"I would not worry, Eva. SHIELD simply believes you are in the bathroom, cleansing yourself. And I do hope your skills at falsifying have improved, because you'll need to lie in, oh, perhaps half an hour?"

His mouth claimed hers before she could speak, and outrage bubbled at the seizure of opportunity, only for the damned desire to set in. Eva inwardly cursed hormones, and she knew that she was going to regret this. Loki was playing a dangerous game – but then, when was he not?

She let herself take pleasure in the kiss, her hand trailing down his chest, and a sound of surprise and barely concealed arousal slipped from Loki's mouth as Eva's hand closed on the apex of his legs, squeezing the organ she found there. Soft laughter from his mouth, and his fingers gripped her wrist, restraining.

"Patience, little one. You'll get what you want."

"You'd better hand me a knife then, because you'd be pretty damn useless without that cock of yours, and nothing would make me happier."

"Such vulgar language," he breathed, his eyes glinting. "Hardly suited to a lady of your standing."

"Oh, I have no standing, Loki, so I can use whatever language I like…  _ergi_."

She had been expecting a slap. What she got instead was a chilling laugh and a flickering gaze, and it was somehow worse than physical violence. His fingers skimmed her collarbone, and paused between her breasts, as they had done before. He pressed against the bone, hard, and Eva stifled a cry of pain.

"You truly are a weak race," he mused, his eyes lingering on the bruise on her throat. His lips twitched, and he leant close once more to whisper in her ear, "Calling me such an insult will do you no favours, Eva."

"No, but it'd work better if Asgard hissed it," she retorted. "Did they? You, wielder of magic, user of shadow, shunner of everything that makes an Asgardian man. Did they whisper it as you passed, Loki?"

"I find it intriguing that you would use such a slur when you privately believe that all genders are equal," he replied calmly, though Eva could detect a steel edge to his tone. "Am I to be called debased and debauched by you because I have also lain with men? I know your views on that too are well disposed. Thus, your insult – if I can truly call it that – are meaningless, woman. I have been called many things many a time, and they affect me little now." He tilted his head, and as his eyes glinted, Eva knew she was in trouble.

His fingers lifted her chin up to meet his gaze, and his voice was low, dangerously so.

"Know your place, Eva Manning."

"And if I refuse?"

Loki leant down to press his mouth to her throat, and she tensed as his voice echoed in her mind.

_There will be consequences._

Eva wanted to laugh in his face and remind him that he had been bluffing about her parents – and Aidan – but it occurred to her that baiting the god of mischief was  _not_  the brightest idea. And she had no idea of his limits. For all she knew, he was capable of any torture and trickery he could conceive of – even if her loved ones were supposedly safe on this ship.

"I could say the same about you," she replied quietly. "There are always consequences for what you've done, Loki. Have your demons caught up with you yet?"

Loki did not respond, only kissed her, running his thumb along her jaw. He pulled back before she could try to push him away; with an amused smile, he turned away and simply vanished.

"Bastard," she muttered.

* * *

Though SHIELD did not trust her, Fury had instructed that she receive some sort of training. Eva had raised an eyebrow and asked exactly  _what_  it was that they would be training her in when physical strength and skill was something Loki outweighed her in by the ton. Fury's expression remained unreadable, but nevertheless she found herself in one of the training rooms, Natasha by her side. When the Avengers had learnt of Eva's excellent aim, Natasha had volunteered in her own deadpan way to "aid the civilian" – and now here Eva was, blade in hand, Natasha's quiet yet clear voice sounding in her ears.

"Aim slightly above the target," the assassin spoke. Eva fought an eye roll, and promptly launched the throwing knife forwards.

It hit the bull's-eye dead centre.

The others had been watching – not that it bothered Eva to have the extra pairs of eyes on her; she figured at least somebody would be monitoring every move she made, and what were five extra people?

Stark, usually quiet, let out a low whistle, and even the usually inscrutable Black Widow looked vaguely impressed.

"You've got a good aim," Natasha said dryly, glancing at Eva with a quirk of her lips as she moved forwards to remove the blade from the target. "What did you practise on?"

Eva's own lips twitched, and she looked to Thor. "Your brother. No offence, or anything. I could never actually manage to hit him, but I came pretty close. Of course, he had to use the same tricks on me too, the bastard." She picked up another knife and hurled it, yet again hitting the bulls-eye right at its heart.

Thor didn't know whether to be amused or horrified, and Hawkeye's smile was an indicator enough of his reaction. Eva had found out what Loki had done to the archer – and she couldn't help but feel relieved that the god had not done the same to her.

"Were you trying to get yourself killed?" came Steve's incredulous tone, and Eva sighed.

"When will you realise that you have to fight fire with fire, Rogers?"

"He's dangerous, Eva – "

She shot him a look then, and he had the grace to stay silent. Having picked up another blade, Eva set it down, and fixed the soldier with a gaze of steel.

"And you think I don't know that?" she said quietly. "I lived with him for a month, Rogers. I know damn well that he is dangerous. There were several times he could have let me drop from the top of the Chrysler, if he'd so wished. I never stopped being on edge around him. Not once did I think myself safe from him, not even when I was in France. You want to know how I know he's dangerous? Hm?"

Without another word, Eva began to strip, ignoring Steve and Thor's protestations. Off came the training apparel, until she stood there in nothing more than her underwear.

"There. Now you know," she said softly.

Her body was dotted with bruises, and Steve looked as though he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. The rest of them were speechless, and Thor wore a face of sheer guilt. Against her alabaster skin, the purples and fading yellows looked ugly, like a canvas painting gone wrong. Loki might have found poetry in them, lyrical beauty reeking of sensual possession, but all Eva saw was brutal ownership.

"Eva, I… I am sorry," Thor hesitantly said. Eva sighed.

"It's not you who needs to apologise, Thor. You can't keep asking for forgiveness for the things your brother has done." Slowly, she began to redress, running her hands through her hair to tame it. "You're not half the bastard he is… and that can apparently be taken literally. Word is that Daddy abandoned him. Which would explain all his… bitterness."

"Do not speak of him so."

Eva's eyebrow lifted at that. "And why not? He has ruined my life, Thor. Ruined it. I can't go home, I can't live the life I want anymore because of him. I would be swarmed by the press, and more likely than not I would be killed by some hateful idiots who believe that I stood by his side willingly." Her voice suddenly broke, and she closed her eyes, forcing the anguish away.

"I have nothing, Thor. He took what I love and made a mockery of it. Even that one lecture I gave was a joke to him. He threatened my family – and now they cannot live as they please. Aidan hasn't gone to school in weeks! He can't be a normal child – and Loki has not even touched him! I haven't seen my friends in weeks – and after this, it's unlikely they'll want anything to do with me. I'm the King's lady, remember? Or is it 'whore' that they all truly mean?"

Thor began to speak, to protest against her declarations, but she held up a hand.

"No. Please, don't. You know it's true, Thor. There's no point in trying to refute my words." Eva turned away, but a large hand caught hers and gently pulled her back. She closed her eyes as the warrior embraced her, and she rested her head against his chest. Trying to give her some semblance of security, she knew. And she was grateful for it. At least there was someone who did not think she was the betrayer of her own kind.

"We will stop him," Thor said softly, his voice vibrating through her. "You will not suffer any more than you already have, Eva."

Appreciate his words she did. Doubted them also. She knew it was only a matter of time before Loki became bored and snatched her back from the Helicarrier, taking her to the Chrysler, and she would resume her status as one of supposed rank. But there was no grandeur to her new moniker. She held no power. Nor did she wish to. It was a matter of self-preservation now. As long as she stayed alive, the longer she had to try and manipulate Loki. It would be difficult – he was the most skilled manipulator she'd ever come across – but she had outplayed him before. She would do so again.

"Thank you, Thor," she whispered. "I hope you're right."

* * *

"I want you to take them back to England. Get the government to ensure their safety."

At once there were protests. The father did not want to leave his daughter alone on the ship. The mother did not long for a home that was no longer a home. Fury said nothing, his eye flicking between the three of them sat at the table.

"No, listen," Eva cut in, interrupting their objections. "You can't live here. You have a job, Dad. Mum, you need a safe home. You need to see your friends. And Aidan… he needs stability. The Helicarrier is no place for him. A couple of days? No problem. But for  _weeks_? This calm mood of his won't last forever. He's intelligent, understanding – but even he will lose his cheer if he does not go home soon. Please." She took her parents' hands, and her expression was soft, pleading. "Go home. Be safe there. Fury will ensure that the government keeps the press from swarming. Won't you, Fury?"

The last sentence was spoken with a degree of icy steel, and the director raised an eyebrow, before steepling his fingers.

"It would be arranged. But there is of course one problem. Loki."

"I'll talk to him, get him to – " Eva began, but Fury was not finished.

"The minute you let your family go, Ms Manning, what in hell is stopping him from taking them as hostages?"

"What indeed," came a soft, high-pitched voice from the doorway. Aidan.

Only the cadence and posture was not that of the little boy.

Eva's mother let out a scream, and her husband leapt back with a shout, horrified.

_Loki_.

In a split second, Fury had cocked his gun and aimed it at the not-Aidan, whose eyes were gleaming with an alien amusement, the irises more green than the usual blue. Only Eva had not moved, though her gaze never left the boy. Wary, of course, though it did not surprise her. Possession was not something she'd believed to be beyond Loki's skill, particularly after hearing what had happened with Clint.

"Loki," she said quietly. "Leave him. Let him go. He is only a boy."

He laughed, something that made Eva's mother tremble with apprehension. It was high and utterly cold, a complete contrast to the warm vivaciousness which usually burst from that mouth.

"Toying with you truly is quite amusing," Loki continued, walking forwards, disturbingly graceful even in the boy's skin. "Though nothing seems to shock you now. Pity. I am sure I could find something."

"Get out of my son," Eva's father hissed, his eyes blazing. "I don't care who you are, but he is my  _son_. He does not deserve to be used like this, so get the hell out before I – "

"Before you what?" Loki –  _Aidan_  – elevated an eyebrow, his lips twitching. "Rend me limb from limb? I would like to see you attempt such a thing. You would be dead on the floor in a single second, mortal. Your race is weak, feeble. No match for a  _god_."

"Stop this!" Eva cried, finally roused. "Stop it!"

"Ah, see how she  _pleads_ ," he mocked, and Eva could not hold back the sickened expression which dominated her face as she watched her little brother hiss and deride her as only Loki could. It was surreal, horribly so. If only it could have been a nightmare; at least then she could wake up, safe in the knowledge that it was simply a figment of her imagination.

It was then that Loki addressed Fury, the only one who had not made a sound.

"Will you shoot, Fury?" Loki spread his arms wide, inviting the director. "Come, come. He is only a boy, after all. Meaningless."

"And what's stopping you from possessing someone else if I do?" Fury questioned warily. Loki laughed again, seeming almost pleased.

"You are learning, I see. Clever man."

At once the boy collapsed, and Eva's parents let out cries of despair, instantly.

But Eva had not moved.

The slender fingers wrapped around her throat from behind rendered her incapable of it, and she tensed as she felt the tickle of his breath against her skin.

"Soon, lítteinn."

And then, he was gone.

No one else had even realised he was there, not even Fury. Loki had remained invisible, and it was with desperation that Eva flew to her brother's side, cradling his lifeless face.

"Aidan, please…"

The child was taken straight to Medical, and the news that he was only unconscious filled Eva with a mix of rage and relief. She slumped back against the medical room wall, closing her eyes as her parents sat there in chairs.

"I'm so sorry," she began, after a silence that was too stifling and too heavy to let lie. "If I had known… You need to leave. He's too dangerous, and I don't want you hurt. Or used, like Aidan was."

She could feel her parents' gazes upon her, and anyone could have predicted the words that left her father's lips then.

"Eva, what did he do to you?"

A short, bitter laugh escaped her mouth, so bitter it shocked her, and she regretted it the moment it sounded. A soft sigh, and she ran her tongue between her lips as she thought best how to phrase it all. It was unlikely that her parents would relent in their questions – after all, they hadn't seen her in a month, had had next to no idea what had happened to their only daughter. Eva could hardly blame them.

"Many things," she murmured. "I won't deny that I thought he would kill me on several occasions. There was the time I believed he would drop me from the top of the Chrysler. He is not a gentle being, but you don't need me to tell you that. It takes skill to survive around someone like him; I made some idiotic choices, and got out of them by the skin of my teeth. I've thrown knives at him, smashed wine glasses," here she fought a blush as the memory of what followed surfaced in her mind, "and I've called him things that, if they were English insults, would probably have me reprimanded by you for speaking them. It was like I had no regard for my own life. Either that or I wanted to push him, test him. A combination of both, I think. It became a game of cat and mouse, I suppose."

"And did he catch you?"

Eva tried to reign in the sarcasm, for it was such an obvious question that she almost could not believe her usually shrewd father had asked it.

"Of course he did. You can't outrun a hunter forever, not one as single-minded as he. I have the marks to prove it." Her eyes opened to see her parents' ashen faces, and she slowly rolled up her sleeves, revealing the bruises that lingered there. "There's your proof. As I said, not gentle. Not gentle at all."

Eva's mother, when she eventually spoke, looked sickened, and tears were forming in her eyes as she asked the question that necessitated a lie and damned Eva to whatever fate lay in wait. And she knew that fate was not going to be kind now.

"Sweetheart… did… did he… rape you?"

Eva swallowed, glancing away, before giving a single, curt nod.

Her mother's choked sob cracked Eva's heart, and she bit her lip, hating the lie but knowing it had to be told. The truth could have even more disastrous consequences, especially if SHIELD knew. And Eva had no doubt the agency had been listening to every word of this conversation.  _Give them what they want, and perhaps they'll trust me, if at least a little. Because if they knew the reality… I'd never be let go. And Mum and Dad need normality. I have to get them out of here. Lying is the only way that will happen. So I'll do it._

_I just hope that Loki will agree to the deal._

And it wasn't a deal Eva was looking forward to making.


	16. Chapter 16

Aidan had awoken within minutes, and Eva was thankful for the distraction. She had hated her parents' horror, their despair. But the lie had been necessary to keep SHIELD from putting her on their watch-list. God, she felt guilty, but she hoped that they'd understand why she did it. If they ever found out, that was. If she was ever in a position to tell them.

Somehow she doubted that.

With a smile and a kiss to her brother's brow, she vacated the room, hurrying down the corridors. Her head was held high; she needed to be calm and confident; she'd never get her way if Fury thought she could be coerced or manipulated.

She was let onto the bridge without a problem, and easily entered the conference room.

"Fury. We have to talk."

"Oh, I'll bet you do."

Eva had been so focused on the man standing in the trench coat that she hadn't even noticed the slimmer, yet far more threatening figure seated at the table. Loki's eyes glittered as he sat there, seeming quite at ease. For once, Fury did not have a gun pointed at the god – Eva guessed he'd learnt that lesson quickly enough.

"What are you doing here?" she asked icily. "Shouldn't you be off terrorising most of Russia's politicians?"

Loki laughed. "My dear Eva, Russia has already been dealt with. It is  _you_  I have yet to deal with."

She suddenly realised that Loki had known all along about her plan, and she took a step back.

"Then you know what I want."

"Of course. It was not difficult to determine." His smile, if it had a voice, would be crowing, triumphant, and Eva fixed him with a gaze of steel, though she felt like a shaking leaf inside.

"And will you agree to the terms?"

"What terms?" Fury asked warily, his gaze flickering. "What are you doing, Ms Manning?"

"SHIELD has no jurisdiction over me." Eva took the seat opposite Loki, her eyes never once wavering from his. "This is my life. I'll do what I damn well want. Even if that means making deals with the devil. My life for my family's. Take it or leave it. My brother is just a child; he does not deserve this. Let them go, and you can have me to do with as you wish."

Fury stared in disbelief.

"We did  _not_  blow up the Palais des Nations and rescue you to simply let you go back to him, Ms Manning," he said angrily.

"It was never a rescue," she replied quietly. "I feel as trapped here as I did in New York. Either way I lose. The lesser of two evils."

"And you pick the one who's more likely to kill you," Fury stated, unimpressed. The corner of Eva's mouth pulled up, her expression wryly amused.

"No. He won't kill me." Her eyes were fixed upon Loki's, and her tone was dry. "If he wanted to, he'd have done it months ago. Am I right?"

"Give me time," Loki replied, tilting his head, and smiling the smile that set her spine ablaze with shivers. "I would not be so self-assured if I were you, Eva."

"You'd get terribly bored without your intellectual counterpart," she responded, rising to her feet. "I don't think killing me is one of your best ideas, darling. Now; do you accept or no?"

Loki eyed her silently, his pupils flickering, catching the artificial light of the room.

"No. I do not."

Eva stared. "What?"

"I said no. Are your mortal ears truly so feeble?"

"But…" She'd been banking on it. She'd wanted her family safe, never mind what he did to her. It had been her last resort. The last card she had to play. Yet now…

Loki raised an eyebrow. "You assumed I would agree. You thought that the pleasure of your body was worth more to me than the scent of your fear. Ah, my dear. You were wrong."

Eva was silent – and then, she snapped.

" _What more do you want from me_?" she screamed, suddenly standing, her anger and desperation overriding everything as it blazed like a maelstrom. "What can I possibly give you that will make you leave everyone I love alone? What?  _Tell me_!"

Loki leant forwards then, and his words were malicious, twisted, triumphant. Oh, he'd been waiting for her to snap. She wasn't broken, not yet. But driving her to madness, causing her to shatter by his own hand… the sweetest success he would ever taste.

"I want you to kneel."

Eva made a noise of derision then amidst her seething ire. "Nice try. But I told you: I will never kneel."

"Well, then."

She heard a scream – her mother. How she heard it, Eva had no idea, but when her father roared, " _Get out of my son_!" her eyes flickered.

"Aidan is not a toy, Loki. Leave him alone."

"The entirety of your  _race_  is viewed as toys, Eva. To realms such as Asgard, at the very least. Mere playthings."

She tilted her head, and a faint smile curved her lips, taking Loki aback, though he never showed it.

"So you're King of a realm of toys?" Her smile widened. "Nice. Daddy would be proud."

She turned as if to walk away, before pausing. "Oh, and by the way, does your brother know you're here? I'm sure he'd have some  _very_  interesting things to say regarding Jane and Pepper…"

Loki's lips twitched, and a soft sound of amusement left his mouth, though his irritation at her words remained beneath the surface. "To chide me, no doubt. He seems to believe it is his duty, being the elder one of us."

"And yet, I would have sworn that  _you_  were the elder," Eva retorted, lifting a finger and revolving back to look at him with an elevated brow. "Until I saw you for what you really are. But Thor is the wiser one, Loki. You haven't grown up yet. You haven't got past the feeling of being wronged, of being betrayed and throwing a planet-sized tantrum over it. Perhaps you were, but what's done is done. It's in the past. Move on."

Fury had been watching this all the while, and he could not deny that he was impressed by her. She feared Loki, certainly, but she was not afraid to set him straight. The director's lips tugged into a slight smile, before it faded upon the realisation that Loki probably would not hesitate to stitch them shut – permanently.

In the beginning, he had been wary of Eva's possible loyalty to Loki. Now, the idea of her being devoted to him was clearly laughable. She had more loyalty to Thor than Loki, purely because of Loki's treatment of her. Fury had seen the playback of Eva stripping, and his eyebrows had lifted upon seeing the bruises. Evidently Thor was not the one who was violent.

Suddenly there was a thundering of footsteps, and Eva's father burst into the room, enraged.

"I want him to leave my son alone. I don't care how you get hold of him, but contact him.  _Now_."

"Oh, but I'm already here, Daniel," Loki stated leisurely, and Eva's father recoiled in shock as he realised who sat in the chair. His face paled, but resolve remained, and his gaze did not waver from the god.

"Dad, go back to Aidan," Eva said quietly. "Let me handle this."

"You did that once, Eva, and look where that got you," Daniel Manning retorted, not looking once at his daughter. "Imprisoned and raped by a madman."

Loki's eyebrow visibly lifted; his head slowly turned to face Eva and tilted, his gaze assessing her.

"Is that so?"

Eva knew that look. Knew it well. Loki was not happy, and she supposed the shred of decency that kept him from forcing himself upon her was wholly insulted.

It was only a shred, however. She still thought him abhorrent.

"Loki." Her voice was a warning, her own brows also elevating.  _Don't._

He eyed her for a second longer, before rising to his feet, straightening his suit jacket in the process – something Eva did not miss, and she almost rolled her eyes at the motion.

"If you will excuse us, gentlemen, Eva and I must discuss a certain… issue."

"No, I will  _not_  excuse you –"

"Hold it right there, Loki. You are  _not_  taking –"

But Loki simply brushed past Daniel and Fury's vehement oppositions and took hold of Eva's wrist. Her eyes widened as she realised, and she shook her head.

"No, don't you  _dare_  –"

Too late. The room spun, and in a single second she was standing on hardwood flooring. Glancing around, she recognised Loki's suite at the Chrysler, and then she glared at the god.

"I said no. Take me back."

"Raped," he said icily. "You told them I took you by force."

"I had no choice," she hit back angrily. "If they knew otherwise, how likely is it, do you think, that they'd trust me?"

He let out a short, strangely bitter laugh. "Eva, my dear, they barely trust you as it is. They are an intelligence agency; do you really believe they trust anyone?"

"Showing them that I am in no degree loyal to you was worth a try. It keeps me from being locked in a cell by them, and keeps my family free of grief. And horror. For their headstrong, independent,  _morally sound_  daughter to suddenly crave the touch of a psychopath? How do you think they'd take that?"

"Morally sound? I do hope you're not implying anything," Loki said dryly. "You are talking about the one who is changing your world for the better, may I remind you. I suspect my morals are perfectly sound indeed."

"You blitzed New York City."

"A necessary step, and the city is on its way to being rebuilt to its former heights," he responded calmly, walking away and removing his suit jacket to sit in an armchair, slinging the jacket over a chair back. "The United States was never going to be a nation where they would sit placidly as they were conquered by an – as you would call it – extra-terrestrial legion. Force was needed, Eva. Did you not take politics in school?"

"I dropped it after my penultimate year, continuing German, History and Psychology. But of course you already know that. You know everything about me." Sighing, Eva made her way over sitting in the one opposite. The two of them eyed each other in silence, both calm, both unblinking. She was able to examine every inch of his face like this. The calculating gaze. The mane of hair, dark as pitch but nowhere near as unpleasant to touch. The ashen skin, devoid of any sort of a tan. She doubted Loki was the  _type_  to tan. He probably pinked like a lobster, being of the frost giant vein, and thus he was highly averse to intense heat.

"I have never 'tanned' in my life," he said, a sliver of a smile curling the corners of his mouth. "I cannot abide the heat, as you have very well guessed."

"You'll be leaving New York in the summer, then. It gets quite…  _hot_  here."

He inclined his head. "I will."

She waited for him to elaborate, but he never did, and judging by the mirth dancing in his eyes, withholding information was just another game to him.

_Alright, then. Let's play._

"Scandinavia is too obvious for you," she pondered. "Russia… well, you despise that country. Or should I say  _those countries_? I hear the division is going well."

Loki's lips twitched. "Oh, Eva. Enough with the cleverness." He stood once more, and smiled down at her. "Come."

Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Because there is something I wish to show you."

"Again? I have already seen one thing, and I rather think I should be getting back to my family."

"You'll see them soon enough. Now. I would prefer it if you changed out of that truly hideous apparel into something more fitting of your status –"

"Ah, ah." Eva held up a finger. "I have no status. You'd do well to remember that, Loki. But…" She got up from the chair. "I can't deny I'd feel better in my own clothes. I assume they are all still there, of course."

"Every piece," Loki confirmed, watching as she walked away from him, his mouth curving upwards.

"And I'm having a bath as well. I might as well abuse your apparent hospitality while I can."

He laughed at that.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Eva sighed in relief, closing her eyes as she sank back in the tub, the hot silky water lapping at her skin. Peace, at last, however tenuous it might be. She knew better than to expect this to last, and when she felt the water level rise and a long leg brush up against hers, her eyes opened.

"That wasn't an invitation," she remarked dryly. Loki's gaze filled with humour, and he crooked a finger. Unamused, Eva shook her head.

"No. Not this time. Because it always ends with guilt and self-loathing."

He canted his head, a slow smile spreading. "And of regret?"

Eva said nothing, and the smile widened. " _Oh_."

'You already knew the answer to that," she said quietly. "Don't gloat, for god's sake. Do you think I like it? It's damn irritating, but there it is. And I can't lie to you. Not because I don't want to, but because I can't. You can see straight through falsehoods, so where is the point in telling them?"

"Very wise of you," he commented. "Very wise indeed. Like your SHIELD counterparts, you are learning. It will be to your advantage."

"Oh shut up, Loki. Let me bathe in peace."

In less than a second, Eva was straddling his lap, and his fingers gently held her hips. She frowned; intimate as the position was, his expression…

"Not in the mood?" she asked sarcastically. Loki chuckled.

"I am not a being who lives for sex, Eva. I can easily have a discussion without taking you as a King does his Queen."

"Alright, stop." She sat back on his thighs, her lips thinning. "I am not your 'Queen'. No matter how much you like to believe so. It's not going to happen, you fool, so you can get that fantasy out of your mind right now."

"And if I asked you to be?"

"Well, I'd be frankly shocked that you're  _asking_  at all, but I'd still say no," she replied. Her brow furrowed. "Why?"

"A King needs a Queen, Eva."

She shook her head. "And it won't be me."

His thumb ran along her lower lip, and for once there was no malice, only genuine curiosity.

"You resist because you still believe I mean your world harm," he mused, his eyes searching hers. Her hand came up to close upon his wrist, her grip tightening.

"Don't do that," she said softly. "Don't act like you're the good one. You're not. You abducted me, killed a friend's other half, terrorised my planet. And for what? This world does not need you. It doesn't need totalitarianism, Loki. It might work on Asgard, but I get the feeling that Asgard isn't nearly as big as Midgard is. You can't control over seven billion people. I told you that before, and I'll tell you that again until you realise just how pointless this regime of yours is."

Loki was silent, and then, to Eva's surprise, he leant forwards to press a soft,  _tender_  kiss to her lips that scrambled her mind more than his impassioned kisses did.  _What…?_ It lasted only a moment, before he pulled back a fraction to murmur against her mouth:

"Is it so pointless to want to better a world?"

"No. But the method is what is pointless," she replied, equally soft in tone. "There are other ways to improve a world. You must know that."

"I have seen your realm's violence. As I once said to Thor, humans slaughter each other in droves. Do you deny this?"

Eva shook her head.

"No. I'm not blind to my planet's disgraces. I know how bad it gets. But I also know how good it gets. And that's without a world leader. We work together, we negotiate, we compromise. We don't need someone sitting on a golden throne, dictating our every move. That's not how we do things here. Every dictator has failed. Stalin, Hitler, Mussolini, Gaddafi –"

"For the simple reason that they abused their powers," Loki cut in, his tone still gentle. "I have no intention of harming the human race. They need to be ruled, need to be guided. Subjugated. Can you not see that when shown a way out, or shown a plan, your species is relieved? Even the most independent look for guidance, and I intend to give it."

Sorrow clouded Eva's expression, and her fingertips touched his jaw.

"I wish you could see otherwise, Loki. I know you never will."

Their mouths met again, and this time there was no fight for dominance, no angry passion, no gloating. They would go back to that soon enough – that was a fact she could not refute – but this… there was something sad in this, a tangible thread of regret. She could feel it in his lips, his fingers, the way he held himself. As if he knew that they could not reconcile.

"Even if you could, I'd still say no," she whispered to his mouth. "I'm not meant to be a queen. I don't want power. I never have."

"And that is what I find so fascinating," he spoke, his eyes roaming her face. "You  _are_  an intrigue, Eva Manning, no matter how vehemently you may deny that."

"One you'll never untangle," she countered, one hand in his hair. His lips tilted into a slight smile.

"Oh, I can try."

"By all means, go ahead. You won't get anywhere."

He laughed, and it was a warm, genuine sound that had surprise skittering through her. For a second, it was as if she had seen the Loki of years before, of a time before his world had shattered, crumbled and moulded into something anew and twisted.

_And what happens now?_

His fingers skimmed her spine, and then his mouth closed on her throat. Yet it was only a kiss, no mark or bite.

"You confuse me," she said honestly. He smiled against her skin.

"Isn't that the point of a trickster?"

Eva laughed quietly, conceding. "True. But this changes nothing, Loki. I still despise you."

"I would never expect anything else."

And strangely, her heart gave a tug at those words.

He lifted her up and helped her out of the bath soon afterwards, and with a gesture he was dried and dressed in a decent suit, while she was garbed –

"The dress? Really?"

It was the scarlet affair, the one she'd worn on their second encounter that his gaze had lingered over for moments. The dress she thought he disliked.

His eyes sparked with mischief then.

"The colour flatters you."

"It's not green."

"Exceptionally observant of you, Ms Manning. I  _do_  hope your eyesight and mental faculties remain so acute in future."

"Smart-arse."

"Naturally."

Exhaling, she glanced at the draining bathwater, before looking to him.

"You mentioned wanting to show me something."

Loki inclined his head. "I did. But it can wait. I believe you have lingered too long here."

Momentarily taken aback, her eyebrow lifted.

"Are you  _concerned_  for me?"

"No." His gaze turned to malice then, and Eva almost felt a sense of loss at that, though she could not explain how or why. "Do not flatter yourself, lítteinn. If you want to keep up appearances – though by the Norns I think you foolish to do so – then I must return you to SHIELD. I refused your deal, if you remember."

Eva bit her lip. "Don't hurt my family. Please. You said you had no intention of harming the human race. Honour that. Leave them be. They're not who you have your quarrel with. Aidan is too young to be so troubled, and my parents… this isn't what they should be caught up in. They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Let them go home. Let them live. I don't understand why you refused, but… don't toy with them. They don't comprehend this, you, us. It isn't their fight, so leave them out of it."

Loki's expression was unreadable, but then he spoke, the malice subsiding a little.

"I refused because I want to see what SHIELD do, how they act. It is as simple as that, Eva. Now…" He took her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it, once again taking her by surprise. "Time to return, my dear."

And the bathroom vanished.

 


	17. Chapter 17

Loki had dropped her back on the Helicarrier with a dry smile, vanishing before her parents could scream at him.

Though not before he took hold of her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. His eyes glittered with that familiar mischief, and then, he was gone.

She could still feel the imprint of his lips minutes later, when Fury was demanding to know what Loki had done with her and where she had been. The fact that she was dressed elegantly raised several pairs of eyebrows, and did nothing to dissipate the rumour that she was a kept woman. When her mother shakily asked if he had hurt her, it was with genuine gentleness that Eva replied in the negative, and she was relieved that she could tell the truth.

"No, he did not harm me," she assured them all quite calmly. "He is not always predisposed to violence, you know. There are occasions where he simply prefers to talk."

"And you come back dressed in  _that_ ," Fury stated. Eva's brow arched.

"Yes, because this is  _my_  dress. This isn't an outfit he gave me; I did actually buy the dress, before Loki even turned up on Earth. So I'll thank you not to be so sarcastic, Nicholas. Besides, most of my clothing is back in New York, and I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel good wearing my own things again."

Annoyed, Eva left the room before Fury could call her back, people swerving to avoid her as she strode down the corridors, hardly caring for the looks people gave her.

Oh, she hadn't been lying in the least. This was more of a prison than Loki's quarters had been. At least in the Chrysler she had had her own suite where she could sit in privacy, do her own thing, perhaps even relax. Here, she was watched constantly, even when she seemed to be alone. Cameras followed her everywhere, documented her every move – and she had to admit it was a little insulting. She was able to handle Loki without SHIELD waiting for him to make an appearance and then aim guns at him. That was too obvious, and crude. Besides, most of the weaponry these days had mysteriously vanished, and what little remained were mere handguns which would only scratch the god, if at all. Nuclear weapons had strangely vanished (though quite honestly there were few countries who weren't secretly relieved at that – Eva's home nation being one of them) and for the moment wars all over the world had halted as the planet's focus was continuously on their new 'sovereign'.

"You know that if you returned to me of your free will then all this would stop," a soft voice sounded as she sat down on the bed in her assigned room, making her bite her lip. "You would not suffer SHIELD's obsession with observing you."

Eva laughed a quietly bitter laugh. "If you think I am coming back to you, you are sorely mistaken. You want me to be someone I have no intention of becoming, Loki. I am not the one to stand by your side. I'm not  _on_  your side. I stand with your opposition, as I always have done. Nights in your bed and evenings in your company haven't changed that, and they won't. Yet you refuse to accept that."

"Would you return to me for protection?" he asked, and his tone was strangely soft. "You know that if I let you go – if I were so inclined – and you returned to London, the public would go after you like a hound scenting blood. I am not a fool, Eva. I know perfectly well that the people think you come to me willingly. I know what they call you. But it will change, in time. They will see that I am the King this realm needs, and you its beloved Queen."

"Stop. Stop that." Eva turned on the bed to look at him, glaring, but he remained unmoved by her anger, only returning the gaze with habitual calm. "Stop insisting that I will be she. Why would I become consort to the man who has terrorised my family? I hold no deep love for you, Loki. You know that also. And I'm not about to enter into a political alliance with you. Not when I don't know the ins and outs of the games you play. You're going to reshape my home to your whims – the little politics I do know can hardly apply anymore. I'm a scholar, not a diplomat."

His laughter was quiet, and it was followed by a slight sigh as he paced around the bed to stand before her. Once more, she was reminded of his impressive height, and she tilted her head up to meet his eyes. His fingers curled under her chin, and his smile was disorientating.

"I want your word that you will leave my family alone," Eva said coldly. "Let my parents be, let my brother alone. Do not go after any of my extended family, either. My grandparents do not need the added stress; they're in their eighties, it could kill them."

"Ah, the couple whose anniversary you were celebrating? I remember." His eyes sparked with a rogue amusement, and he released her, moving away. "Whatever will they think of you now?"

That was cruel, even for him, and she fought to ignore the sting. Words. Just words. That's all they are. Nothing more.

"As long as they're alive and unharmed, I don't care," she replied. "They can think me the whore of Babylon, but if they're safe and well, I won't protest. Because, quite honestly, I'm starting to think the concubine moniker is probably accurate."

He laughed a little louder at that. "My dear Eva, you are no concubine. Consort, yes. But not concubine – "

" _I am not your consort_!" she screamed, finally snapping as she shot to her feet. "I am not your lady,  _I am not yours_! I am me and my own! I am an ordinary woman with ordinary wants and an ordinary life! Why can you not see that?"

"Because your life is no longer ordinary, Eva. You cannot go back to the life you had. You are too well known and too often targeted. A return to the job of librarian would leave you too exposed. I cannot allow that."

"Allow?  _Allow_? It is  _my_  life!"

"One that is at the centre of my rule. Therefore, it is your best interests for you to comply with my wishes."

Eva took a step towards him, but her legs suddenly buckled and her vision blurred.  _What…?_

She collapsed in the next second, and Loki easily caught her limp figure. Frowning, Loki gently lifted her into his arms, and her head lolled against his chest as oblivion kept its grip on her. She did not seem to be injured, he noted. Exhaustion? Stress? Possibly.

Unable to resist baiting SHIELD even as his lover lay unconscious, the god walked out of the room and down the corridor to where he knew Fury would be. Predictably, shouts went up as the news spread and his face was observed, and he rolled his eyes as agents warned him, demanding he put down the civilian.

"She has fainted," Loki stated simply as the director appeared at the end of the passageway. "She is in need of medical attention – give her what she requires."

Fury eyed Loki, clearly deciding whether to go along with it or not, but he must have seen the sober sincerity of Loki's expression, because he gave the order for the agents to stand down.

"Escort him to medical," Fury ordered a few, bland, nameless agents, who barely glanced at Loki – but he could sense their uneasiness around him. Excellent. He always had relished the scent of their fear. He ignored the cries of dismayed parents and anxious brother, his focus entirely on the girl in his arms. Of course he was concerned for her, but he kept his face devoid of open sentiment. Not that the fools would be able to manipulate him using her. Tricking a trickster god was never a wise idea, and he'd only enjoy turning the tables.

He placed Eva carefully on the hospital bed, and the doctors took a good look at her. Loki vanished, though only from view. He was still in the room as they examined her, but he was well aware that his visible presence could prove a distraction, and he wanted to ensure that she received the best care available. Naturally, he could have taken her back to New York, but he rather liked sending SHIELD into a panic. And as he shifted to wait outside the room alongside her family – fully visible this time – the glares thrown his way by little Aidan were quite endearing, if a little amusing also. As if a little mortal boy could be a true threat to a god!

He shouldn't have been surprised when her father began to quietly ask him questions, fury barely suppressed.

"Why her?"

Loki's lips tilted in a languid smile, and he glanced towards the closed door.

"Because she was not afraid to defy me. Because she intrigues me. And because her grasp of my mother tongue is truly impressive, for a mortal. She will do well as my consort."

Anger flared in Daniel Manning's eyes, and his fists clenched as his jaw tensed.

"She won't do it. Not after what you've done to her."

"Ah, of course. The violation. What must you think of me?"

Horror was a deluge upon Eva's mother's face, and Loki cocked his head, eyes scrutinising the female.

"You think me a monster, Elise Manning?"

Her eyes widened upon his address, and Loki could see her throat convulse as she swallowed.  _Gathering courage. I could almost pity her._

"I do," she replied quietly, yet firmly enough for her unnerved demeanour that he was faintly surprised by it. "Any man who forces the unwilling is no human being." Her accent was soft yet undeniable; it was no wonder Eva was fluent in German.

"I am no human, Elise," Loki reminded her levelly. "I have lived considerably longer than your lifespan allows."

"That may be so, but you should act humanely. With a conscience," the female retorted, a spark of fire developing. "She is my daughter – treat her with care."

Loki smiled.

"As I see it, Elise Manning, I have never once left her  _without_  care. She was treated well in New York, as she was in Paris, and indeed London. I would not abuse my future queen so. Which is why I will no longer use your son against her. Neither will I target your family. I will let you alone, if you let me alone with her. She will want for nothing, I can assure you that. Eva will be quite safe."

"That's not good enough," Daniel growled. "Let her go."

"If I do, the public will be on her like a pack of dogs," Loki pointed out dryly. "Do you truly want to leave her unprotected, Manning? Do you?"

There was silence, and then Aidan spoke up, staring at Loki almost curiously.

"Do you promise?"

Loki hid his smile, for he saw the little boy's seriousness, and he walked over to him, crouching and looking up at his face.

"I give you my word," he said calmly. Aidan, to his credit, didn't look convinced, and Loki's expression softened.

"I was a boy of your age once. A long, long time ago. I know you worry for her. Do not. She will come to no harm." Loki gently took hold of Aidan's wrist – ignoring the warning given by Daniel – and placed a tiny gold serpent in the boy's palm. He closed Aidan's fingers over the trinket, giving the child one last look, and then the god rose to his feet.

It was then that Loki felt Eva's mind awaken, and he was in the room before the doctors could even emerge to tell the waiting family.

She did not look pleased to see him.

"What happened?" she asked him flatly. His lips twitched.

"I am glad to see your mind has not been addled," he remarked, coming over to stand by the bed. "You fainted, Eva. I simply brought you here to ensure that you were all right."

"It is a case of exhaustion and low blood sugar," the doctor explained concisely. "It would be better if you were to rest, Ms Manning."

Eva nodded as he recommended foods and fluids, and it was relief that her parents greeted her, Aidan jumping onto the bed and hugging her tightly. Eva kissed his forehead. It sent an odd pang through Loki's chest, but he dismissed it. Instead he merely inclined his head at her, his voice echoing in her mind.  _I will return. Do as the doctor orders you to._

He vanished, and Eva sighed.

"How are you feeling?" Elise asked, and with a soft smile, Eva turned her focus from the god to her mother, gently reassuring her.

"What's that, Aidan?" Eva enquired, noting the gold flash between his clenched fingers. Aidan opened his palm, and Eva blinked in surprise.

"Loki gave this to you?"

Her brother nodded, and her brow furrowed. She couldn't fathom  _why_  Loki would do that… but then, he was known for being unpredictable. Eva let it drop, but her mind still whirred with unanswered questions – questions that she wanted Loki to respond to. Wherever he'd gone to, she had no inkling, but it wouldn't have shocked her to find him terrorising Fury or back in New York. He was a supposed king, after all. He had matters of state – or indeed,  _realm_  – to attend to.

Drawn back into reality by her family, Eva threw herself into their company, smiling and laughing. Loki could wait. Time with her family was precious, and she intended to savour every moment she could have with them.

It was gut instinct that told her she had very few moments left.

* * *

Fury sat at his desk, files spread out over the work-surface. He was perusing one in particular – Eva's medical history. It was a fairly thin file; she was a healthy individual, with very few serious ailments. But it wasn't serious ailments that Fury was interested in.

It was the report made when she'd been brought back to SHIELD – in particular, the blood test results.

Fury scanned the lines of text once more, just as he'd done countless times before. Eva had been kept ignorant of their meaning, as had her family; indeed everyone was unaware save a few choice doctors and Fury himself. The director was not keen for Eva to find out the real reason for her fainting spell, particularly when it would have Loki snatching her back to New York in an instant (he was damn sure Loki had no idea of her condition thus far, a relief in itself).

And that was the last thing Fury wanted. Because if this new circumstance could provide SHIELD with leverage… It could give them the upper hand, and loosen Loki's hold on Earth.

Grimly, Fury shut the file, sighing.

Whatever the outcome, Eva would not be told yet.

And when she found out, SHIELD would do their damnedest to keep hold of her.

The longer Eva's pregnancy was kept from the father of the child, the better.

Because once the  _father_  discovered it…

Fury had no doubt that the life in Eva's womb had very probably sealed her fate.

 


	18. Chapter 18

Recovery did not take long, something which Eva was highly grateful for, and she was up on her feet soon enough, alert and on her guard. Loki did not visit her again – she suspected that he was leery of spending too much time with a mortal. That thought amused her highly, particularly when Loki had repeatedly tried to claim her as his queen.

Loki had been absent for three days when Thor took her aside.

It confused her highly, especially when he would not tell her what he was planning. He simply bade her follow him to the top deck of the ship, and when she did, standing as the wind whipped her hair into a frenzy, Thor spoke.

"I apologise for any indecorous behaviour, but this is necessary."

He took her by the waist, and Eva inhaled sharply as he pointed Mjolnir and the two of them shot into the air. The air rushing past was disorientating, and Eva tucked her face into Thor's chest as they sped over the sea. She desperately wished that she could ask the god where they were going, but the roaring in her ears would have swallowed any sound – and she wasn't sure that she could breathe in enough air to even verbalise a word.

But she was intelligent enough to realise that the reason for his speed and the reason he hadn't told her a thing. Loki. Loki would know instantly were it not for the pace of this. More likely than not he'd tap into her thoughts as well, and Thor could not have that occurring.

They flew for what seemed like less than a minute – and Thor descended swiftly on the ground, though he gently set his trembling companion down.

"Are you well?" he asked. Eva nodded with a shaky but exultant smile.

"That… that was incredible. I had no idea that you could do that. My word…" She laughed quietly, and looked around. Frowning, she spoke again.

"Where are we –  _Thor_!"

The warrior god had swept her up in his arms and begun to run. They were on a stretch of snowy ground. The sky was bleak, and the clouds seemed almost sinister. It was also bitterly cold, but the adrenaline pulsing through Eva managed to keep her body from shivering too violently.

Thor came to the middle, and set her down again. Eva's protests went unheard, for Thor simply tilted his head to the sky and shouted, "Heimdall! Open the Bifrost!"

Astonished, Eva stared at him, but Thor simply gave her a calm look.

"Prepare yourself."

She had barely five seconds to do so before her body was wrenched into a racing, blinding vortex of colour.

If she had been able to scream, she would have. As it was, she was speeding forwards at such a rate that sounds were impossible, and she almost winced at the bizarre feeling of having her body pulled by something stronger than gravity.

And then, her feet hit solid ground. Eva would have crumpled were it not for Thor's strong arms preventing her from doing so, and she closed her eyes, trying to regain her balance.

"Eva?"

"I'm alright," she told him quietly. "Just a little disorientated. But I'll be fine."

"That can happen, for one's first experience of the Bifrost," came a powerful baritone, and Eva's eyes flew open.

Before her stood a huge, imposing man, clad in gold and grasping a sword. His eyes were all-knowing, and he bowed his head.

"Welcome to Asgard, Eva Manning."

Asgard. Eva's eyes widened, and she slowly turned to Thor, only now noticing the golden interior in which she stood.

"A-Asgard? But… why?"

"Because I need my father to intervene on Midgard. Loki has to be stopped, Eva. If he tips the balance of the realms too far… it will be catastrophic. He has already claimed that which he has no right to. I must ask that you speak with the Allfather."

Eva held up a hand. "Wait. You want me to speak with  _Odin_?"

Thor cracked a smile as he sensed her uneasiness. "Eva, you are able to handle my brother – I should think perfectly capable of conversing with my father."

"But… the Bifrost…  _how_?"

Thor's smile widened. "I have been working with Jane, and I have met with Heimdall and my father many a time these past few months to try and construct a replacement. It is not without flaw – it can only travel to Midgard and no other realm at present – but it is a start. Loki is unaware of this. I am sorry that I could not inform you beforehand, but I could not risk Loki knowing and halting our journey."

It was a lot to absorb in less than a minute. Eva's mind was whirling with questions, and it was a moment before she quietly spoke. Resolve seemed to wash over her, and she straightened. Giving a nod, she fixed Thor with a piercing gaze.

"Alright. I will speak with him. It's time your brother was brought down anyhow. I want my life back."

Thor was wise enough not to point out that the likelihood of her life returning to normal after this was extremely low. In truth, he worried for her, what this would mean for her. If Loki were restrained, brought to heel, Eva would still face scrutiny from her own people. And she would undoubtedly suffer, though as to how much Thor did not know.

Eva suddenly gestured to her clothes: simple black jeans, a blue blouse, black work boots.

"Am I dressed suitably enough?"

Thor let loose a laugh at that, and Heimdall's lips twitched.

"You will do," the thunder god said with a grin. "Now come. You must meet my mother – she will adore you."

"Oh,  _please_  don't tell me this is a 'meet the parents' scenario. I am  _not_  Loki's girlfriend." A ripple of revulsion showed; somehow the words 'Loki' and 'girlfriend' did not mix well in the same sentence. Thor simply shook his head and gestured.

"Let us go. Heimdall."

The guardian bowed his head in acknowledgement, and Eva inclined her own quickly, before following Thor out of the huge gold dome.

It was an understatement to say that Eva was not prepared for the sight that her eyes met in that one moment as she stood on the long bridge. It was like a physical spectrum, and she was momentarily mesmerised by the prisms of colour twisting and shifting in the crystal.

Until, of course, she looked up and saw Asgard. Her eyes went wide, and it was a few seconds before she could utter a word.

"It's… it… you grew up here?"

"Indeed I did," Thor replied, his heart warming at the expression upon Eva's face. "It is a beautiful realm, is it not?"

"I can't argue with that," she said dryly, and Thor laughed.

He flew with her to the palace then, and she barely had time to adjust to the dizzying velocity before he set her down before the huge palace doors. Eva looked up in astonishment, and a smile tilted her lips.

"It looks like a pipe organ," she mused. "A huge, golden pipe organ." She glanced at Thor, and seeing his confused expression, hurried to clarify.

"It's a musical instrument with keys and pipes. Like a piano, but with more… oomph. Churches use them a lot."

"Ah." Thor nodded, eyes lighting with understanding. "Jane spoke of such establishments before when comparing your realm's beliefs with science. It was an intriguing discussion."

Without any further conversation, Thor once more gestured ahead of him, and Eva stared as the doors opened, revealing an absolutely enormous expanse of gold architecture and wide, sweeping open spaces.

"Oh, my…"

Thor laughed. "It is but the beginning of the palace. Come, we must hurry to the throne room. My father awaits us."

"Odin knows we're here?"

Thor gave her a look of amusement. "He is the all-seeing Allfather. Of course he knows."

"Father of all gods. Right. I should know that, since I have a goddamn degree in your mythology – or our confused version of it."

Nerves were beginning to get to her, and Thor could not help but notice. Gently he took her hand and squeezed it, careful not to crush her slight fingers. His gaze was warm, reassuring.

"You can do this, Eva. If you can face my brother, you can face my father. I will be here beside you. Do not fear; my father will not harm you – especially because you are the one thing keeping my brother from throwing Midgard into oblivion."

Eva stared. "I am not – "

"You are. Look properly, Eva Manning. My brother heeds your words, despite what you may think. Only a little influence, but influence nonetheless. You may be able to save your people from ruin. Think on that."

And she did, as Thor led her onwards. Joyful shouts went up as the people caught sight of their golden prince, and Thor acknowledged them only with a nod – he had other things on his mind than appealing to his future subjects. Eva did not let their curious looks get to her; she wondered whether they could tell that she was mortal. Asgardians did not seem to have any outward traits that could be deemed different to those of mortals.

It was not long before the two of them came to another set of golden doors, and the guards stepped aside, allowing entrance. Thor smiled down at Eva, one last piece of reassurance, and then, they walked into the throne room.

Her eyes were drawn instantly to the elderly gentleman sitting upon a gold seat that could have only been the throne. She barely registered the guard' announcement of their presence, and her eyes flickered over the gold eyepatch before moving to the lady standing by him.

Odin. Frigga.

"Father, Mother," Thor began, walking towards them. "May I present Eva Manning of Midgard."

Suddenly conscious that these two individuals were the mother and father of Asgard, the people she had studied, Eva's breath caught for a moment. But only for a moment. Common sense made her exhale, and bow her head in greeting. "Your Majesties."

"So you are the girl Loki is so taken with," Odin began, almost scrutinising her with his single eye. His tone was almost level, but was she wrong to think that she heard a thread of disapproval? "His apparent consort."

"Girl, yes. Consort, no," she replied, and, like their son before them, Odin and Frigga were noticeably surprised at her use of their tongue. "I am not Loki's queen, no matter what he believes. I was used to try and find out more in terms of his motives towards conquering my world… But my role in all of this ended being considerably larger than intended." Her voice was grim; she barely cared if these were his parents, adoptive or otherwise. Being tactful was the least of her worries – she had bigger fish to fry. Like convincing them that if they didn't intervene in Loki's schemes then Midgard would likely crumble and the realms would be at an imbalance.

"Thor brought me here for the simple reason that I need your help," she continued, fixing the Allfather with an unwavering look. "I need you to stop your son. If he keeps on doing this, my planet will become something unrecognisable. We don't do well with subjugation. Humanity isn't cut out for it. I am asking you not only to stop your child, but also to halt a tyrant. He believes he is bettering my world, yet he is wrong. We want him gone. We want our world back as it was. Please. Help us."

Odin was silent for a moment, and then he gestured to Thor. "Go with your mother. Lady Eva and I must discuss this alone."

Without another word, the Queen and the crown prince took their leave, though both threw Eva soft smiles that made her feel slightly more at ease. Odin was imposing to say the least, and he descended the steps to stand before her.

"Loki does not know you are here, does he?"

"I doubt he did in the beginning, but I've no doubt he knows now. He knows everything – I've rarely noted anything that slips his watch. Which means he must know that the Bifrost has become functional again, although Thor said otherwise," Eva responded carefully. Odin's brow furrowed,

"He is an astute being, my youngest," he murmured. "I believe that he is aware of much more than perhaps your organisations believe."

"He is also damaged, slightly sociopathic and most likely devoid of sanity," Eva commented dryly, ignoring the fact that Odin gave her an arch look. "When you've spent over a month in his company, you notice those traits fairly quickly. And his penchant for fine dress, but I think that comes with the territory."

A flicker of humour lingered in the Allfather's eye, but it was replaced by an almost chilling gaze.

"What you ask of me will cause a full-scale war," he said calmly. "People will die, and the balance may tip further. Until Loki places your world in absolute peril, I will not intervene. Asgard will watch, but we will not aid you. Not until my son truly presents a threat to the Nine Realms."

Eva stared in shock. She'd been counting on Odin's help, so much so that she had barely considered the consequences of a refusal. Anger welled up within her, but she forced her voice to remain as steady as it could be when she addressed him once more.

"You would leave Midgard to suffer under a despot?" she said quietly, yet there was unmistakable ice lacing her accent. "Are we mortals meaningless to you 'higher beings'? We embrace who we are; we accept and thrive. And we cannot do the latter unless you take Loki back to Asgard – "

"Yet what does Midgard know of Asgard? Only what little has passed into your myths and legends. Even Loki's presence does not shine a light upon the Realm Eternal, for he shuns us as much as he shuns Jotunheim."

"You cannot stand by and do nothing!" Eva cried, horrified. "My people are subjugated, unable to breathe. Please! You  _must_  help us!  _Please_!"

"My word is final, my lady. I will not allow my own people to intervene. Not yet. Not until the day when your realm threatens to fall."

Speechless, Eva took a step back from the Allfather.  _He isn't going to aid us. We have nothing. We can't fight Loki. Can we even win?_

"Father."

Eva half-turned to see Thor standing in the doorway, looking desperate – as desperate as she felt.

"You cannot leave Midgard in this state," the crown prince pleaded. "I beg you, Father. Please. Help humanity regain what they have lost."

"The matter is settled, Thor. I have given my answer, and it will not change. We are done here."

"But Father –"

" _Enough_!"

For a second, Thor was sickeningly reminded of the moments before he was cast out on to Midgard, when Loki had tried to intervene on his behalf. It was almost painfully ironic. How backwards it all seemed. Never had he believed Loki would become the man he was now, yet he had, and something had to be done about it.

And Odin was denying them the solution.

Thor's eyes blazed, and Eva saw just why he was nicknamed the Thunderer. But he merely gritted his teeth and nodded curtly.

"As you wish. Come, Eva. I can see there is nothing to be done here."

He turned on his heel and strode from the room, and Eva followed suit, though only after giving Odin one last glance.

Thor's pace betrayed his inner fury, and Eva was almost running to keep up with him. Civilians and guards alike moved aside to let their prince pass, afraid that his infamous temper might erupt at any moment.

"What now?" Eva asked. She saw Thor's knuckles whiten as he clenched Mjolnir's handle, and she was abruptly glad that she'd never once been on the receiving end of the Thunderer's ire.

"I do not know," Thor said apprehensively. "I do not know. But we must return to Midgard. Hurry."

Once the both of them were out of the palace, Thor picked her up and hurtled to the Observatory, where a grim-faced Heimdall met them.

"He refused," Thor stated tersely. "Midgard remains unprotected."

"Yes, and no," the Guardian responded steadily. "Midgard will be protected as long as you care for her and for as long as Asgard watches over her. Fare you well, Eva Manning."

Thor made no reply, and Eva bowed her head, murmuring her own goodbye, before the two stood on the low pedestal. The sword slid into the slot, and all of a sudden she was pulled into the spectrum again, near blind from the blur of it all.

Then firm, reassuring ground met her feet, and like before Thor grasped her to keep her upright. She muttered her thanks, and blinked at her surroundings. Empty. Freezing. Thor gazed around, checking for any sign of friend or foe. Finding none, he took hold of Eva again, and the two of them hurtled back to the Helicarrier.

* * *

"No sign of Loki?" Fury asked. Thor shook his head.

"Not one. There were no attacks or confrontations either."

"But he knows," Eva cut in, disregarding Fury's look as she had done Odin's. "Loki is not a fool. There is no viable way that you could conceal something like a repaired Bifrost from him. He knows everything. And he is undoubtedly aware of my disappearance. He'll be curious. And no doubt angry. He is volatile. Whatever his reaction, don't expect it to be pleasant."

The director sighed. "An angry Loki is not one I want on the backs of SHIELD. If Odin won't help us, then we simply have to find another way to get Loki off this planet."

"There aren't exactly an abundance of options," Eva mused. "I doubt there is anyone singularly more powerful than Loki. Even you, Thor, are perhaps weaker than him, in some way. We have to be underhand. Play his game – but play it better."

"And how exactly do you propose we do that?" Fury asked, sarcasm dripping.

Eva suddenly smiled.

"Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer."

One dark eyebrow rose. "You are  _not_  going back to him."

"No, but 'closer' has several interpretations, Fury. Wait and see. You don't spend a month in a trickster's company without learning a few things yourself. Trust me." Her eyes glinted. "I've got this."

 


	19. Chapter 19

Loki had felt her absence instinctively and instantly. Eva had quite literally disappeared off the face of the Earth. And he knew exactly where she had gone. Not that it had come as much of a surprise. He was well aware of what Jane Foster and Thor had been working on. In fact, the only thing that  _had_  surprised him was Eva's look of desolation as she sat down on her bed. He was so used to seeing the spitfire side of her that he'd almost forgotten that she could crumble.

"Why did you kill Pepper?"

Loki surveyed her, expression unreadable.

"Stark needed to taught a lesson – "

"Oh, but you just gave him reason to want you dead. He never wanted to hurt anyone. He simply wanted you gone. I doubt he wished for your death until the day he learned of hers," Eva cut in quietly, standing up and moving towards him, eyes flickering. "A broken man is a dangerous one. And you know I'm right. All you need do is look at yourself for comparison."

"Is that how you view me?"

"You've always been broken. And somehow you believe that ruling my planet will seal the cracks in you. How very wrong you are."

Fingers brushed her lips, and peridot irises searched hers.

"I hope you do not see yourself as part of the sealant," he mused. That brought a laugh forth from her, and Eva viewed him almost pityingly.

"I'm not one for redeeming another, darling. Especially not one as far-gone as you. You'll have to find another sweetheart willing to save you. Someone whose heart is ready to warm yours."

His mouth twitched, and the fingers moved to feel the smooth jawline, elegant as the rest of her. A hand lifted to grasp his wrist, and her eyes flashed in plain warning.

"Don't pretend to know tenderness, Loki. It doesn't suit you at all."

This time, a smile was evident, though it was small in size and sad, wistful perhaps. Gently he removed her fingers from his wrist, and a kiss was placed to her knuckles.

"You think me a monster when all I desire is what is best for you and your world," he murmured. "It matters not how you see me, but you know that I can be far more frightening than I am now."

"Oh, I know," she replied steadily. "I know. I've known since the day I met you. Only a fool would have no fear of you."

"And you are most certainly not that."

Eva's brow cocked in surprise. "A compliment? I should feel flattered."

"And do you?"

She stared at him for a long moment, and then the corner of her mouth pulled up. "No."

She walked away from him, and sat on the edge of the bed. "I know why you're here, Loki. Your father. Odin. I must say, Asgard is quite the spectacle."

"A realm full of proud idiots," Loki remarked dryly. Eva raised an eyebrow.

"Is that really what you think?"

"Yes."

It sounded like a lie, but Eva did not press further, only sighed and closed her eyes, falling back on to the bed.

"I could have told you Odin would refuse," he continued almost idly in tone. "He does not like to intervene unless – "

"Unless absolutely necessary, yes, I know," `Eva cut in tersely. "I would have thought he'd take the chance to apprehend his wayward child, though."

"He does not count me as his son."

"Oh, I think he does, Loki. You're wrong there. And Frigga definitely counts you as her child, I've no doubt about that."

There was silence. It was almost predictable, really. Family was a sore spot for the god, yet when Eva opened her eyes, he was gone. Clearly the mention of Frigga had affected him more than he would have liked, and Eva exhaled once more, curling up on the bed.

"You have some serious issues," she muttered. Her mind drifted to the moment where she had seemingly convinced Fury that she had something up her sleeve, and a crease formed along her forehead. Truthfully, she hadn't the faintest idea how to best Loki, and she knew that. But the only way to keep from seeming weak in front of SHIELD was to maintain a façade, and keep on maintaining it till all hell broke loose.

And she didn't doubt that such an event would probably occur soon.

Loki knew what hid behind her mask of arrogance, knew how fragile she truly was. Eva did not have the answer, and as for vague ideas – not even they cared to make themselves known to her weary mind. She wasn't anywhere close to giving up the fight, but god was she tired. She supposed that Loki was difficult to tire, being of the immortal vein, and a flicker of resentment lit within her. He'd looked alert and composed when she had first met him, and that had not changed in the slightest. If he was fatigued, he hid it well. Just as she'd expect a master of façade and trickery to do.

The child that still lingered deep within her longed to run to her mother, to be comforted and told that everything would be all right. Eva doubted that anyone truly lost that instinct, even Loki. But she hadn't been a child for years, and she couldn't rely on her parents to sort her shit out now. Not when they couldn't handle Loki. The god terrified her mother and unnerved her father. Eva was unarguably the best candidate for dealing with Loki, especially since he seemed to regard her with a sort of amusement. Privately, Eva was grateful that SHIELD would never know everything about her month with the self-professed king. There were some things that would instantly jeopardise not only her family but also innocents if SHIELD discovered them. And if SHIELD tried to blackmail Loki using that information – an idiotic idea, but she didn't put it past them – innocent lives would die until the intelligence agency finally got the hint. Loki was not a man to be trifled with, and trying to think of a way out of all of this, trying to imagine overthrowing him… Her fingers pressed into the fabrics of the bed, her eyes closing as her brow furrowed in frustration.

"One day," she whispered. "One day he'll be gone."

Eva only hoped that it would be soon.

* * *

_Laughter._

_Eva watched from where she sat on the bench as the two children chased each other gaily in the gardens. The bench was nestled in a pale-wood canopy, and she looked down to see the curve of her belly, swollen for the third time. She was dressed in fine silver-grey, the skirts sweeping the grass and the first of the autumn leaves beginning to fall. Still warm. The sun was a welcoming beacon, and Eva tilted her head up to the sky, smiling at the balm with which the light caressed her face._

_"My Queen."_

_The smile widened as she felt his lips brush her throat from behind, and a long-fingered hand curved over her stomach. She tilted her head back, and his soft laugh sounded in her ear._

_"You should be with the council," she said dryly. His fingers traced patterns over the swell, and he stepped over the bench to sit beside her, his long legs stretched out._

_"They can wait. My wife cannot," he replied simply, and he grinned as the two little ones ran up to him, shouting with joy upon seeing their father. He embraced both of them at once, kissing their foreheads, and he stood, lifting both of them up, one settling on each hip._

_The two children – both eager, intelligent, beautiful boys – babbled away, telling their father every bit of interesting news they had. And Eva simply observed, light amusement falling from her lips as her family was gathered together._

Loki's eyes flew open, sleep instantly abandoning him as the details of the dream swam over and over in his troubled, tangled mind. How idyllic the scene had seemed. But was it a vision?

He had cause to doubt it. He was well aware that Eva would likely never look at him in reality like the way she had in that little slice of arcadia. The little mortal despised him, despised his very nature even as she acted the little whore in bed, as he took her like a king took his concubine. But he understood that labelling her a 'little whore' was incorrect, pointless. Not once had she beckoned him like a harlot – and that, he supposed, was why he relished her as a bedmate.

But she had been his queen in the idyll.

An almost bitter chuckle could be heard, and he sighed. Convincing her to take up the role would require further persuasion… not that he'd mind. He'd always revelled in a challenge.

Loki recognised that perhaps Eva was intriguing him to a degree that was dangerous, but then he wanted her as his queen. He was entitled to this fascination. Norns, he was King. He was entitled to anything and everything!

And that meant having her. She'd give in eventually. She'd need to, what with SHIELD's plans for her slowly falling into place. But Fury was a fool. If the mortal truly thought that things could be hidden from the god of trickery and deceit…

He was Loki. He was King, and nothing was concealed from him.

* * *

The room was silent but for the occasional sound of a well-thumbed page being turned. Eva had endeavoured to lose herself in literature, and Stevenson had finally succeeded in drawing her into his world of duality and human nature. She disagreed with Hyde's appearance, however. If she were to describe the epitome of evil, it would have a face like an angel and a soul born of the Devil. She'd learnt that the worst hid behind the best faces. SHIELD was no exception, however much they tried to play the 'good guy' card.

_At least Hyde came to an end,_  she thought darkly.  _If only real life mirrored fiction._

Alas, she was not so naïve as to believe that.

"Eva?"

Roused from her reverie, she lifted her head from the book to see the figure standing in the doorway. Immediately a smile graced her features, and she patted the bed. "Come sit, Aidan. What's wrong?"

Her little brother did as bid, and eyed her book.

"Jekyll and Hyde…"

"It's very good. You'll like it when you're older," she replied, eyes twinkling. "It's the top read for good versus evil."

"The bad man dies, right?"

Eva tapped her nose. "You'll have to wait and see. Spoilers."

"You  _always_  say that," he grumbled. Eva laughed and pulled him close, kissing the top of his head.

"I wouldn't want to spoil the fun for you, little man. How's the maths going?"

Aidan pulled a face. "I don't like it."

"Hardly surprising. I never did, either. Hence why I gleefully tossed it out the window after my GCSEs."

Miraculously, they had managed to find a SHIELD agent who was able to teach Aidan the basics in maths, and another in English. It was not long before the two warmed to the little boy, and they waved away all offers of payment for their services. It was a relief to Eva's parents; the time Aidan had spent out of schooling was understandably worrying.

"What about English?"

The face was still present.

"Don't like that either."

"Typical."

The two of them fell silent, Aidan lolling against her as she returned to her book, both of them comfortable in their oft-visited silence. Eva read in a trance, her eyes skimming the words as they lured her deeper and deeper into the story – and then her stomach flipped.

Startling Aidan as she leapt off the bed, she ran straight into the bathroom – and the contents of her stomach made a quick exit as she fell to her knees in front of the toilet.

When her stomach had finished rebelling, she sat back, gasping for breath, and Aidan's voice sounded from the doorway.

"Eva? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she rasped. "I'll be fine, buddy, probably just something that I ate, that's all."

"Okay." He didn't sound convinced, and she heard him pitter-patter off somewhere. Sighing, Eva flushed the toilet, stood up and went to brush her teeth, hating the horrible taste in her mouth. Whatever it was, it was most likely one of those twenty-four-hour viruses, although how that had come onto a ship that was god knew how many feet in the air…

Eva settled back on to the bed, trying to lose herself in the book again, but a few minutes later a knock on her door made her look up.

"Come in."

Elise stepped into the room, concern creasing her brow as she sat on the bed.

"Are you alright,  _liebling_? Aidan said you weren't feeling well."

"I'll be fine. It's most likely just a bug," Eva reassured her mother with a slight, rueful smile. "Honestly." She set her book aside and hugged Elise close, emotion suddenly welling within her. "I'm sorry for all this shit I've put you through. It's my fault; I should never have said yes to SHIELD's request. I should have stayed away, I – "

"Hush," Elise murmured, her slight accent more soothing to Eva than any lullaby. "What's done is done, Eva. Now we simply have to deal with the consequences."

Eva blinked back tears, and as she pulled back, Elise's gaze softened, and she cupped her daughter's cheek with a hand.

"Be strong,  _liebling_. Be the fierce woman I know you are. Do not let him destroy you."

"I don't know if I can," Eva whispered, and for the first time in weeks, her façade cracked a little, trembling as frightened doubt slipped through. "What if we can't win, Mama? What then?"

Elise kissed her daughter's forehead.

"That doesn't mean you should stop fighting." Her thumb stroked Eva's cheek. "I know how scared you are, Eva. I know that you believe keeping your parents ignorant is the best way. But your father and I love you; we know that you are desperate to get out. Please, talk to us. Me."

Eva shook her head, and a tear slipped from her eye.

"I can't. I'm sorry. I just can't."

A shadow of disappointment crossed Elise's face, but the woman simply exhaled and pulled Eva close again.

"I hope you can open up soon,  _liebling_. We are here for you; remember that."

Eva smiled, albeit shakily, and when the conversation turned to lighter things, she was more than a little relieved. Until she threw up again. Elise patiently waited, holding a glass of water which Eva gratefully took, swallowing a few sips. Setting the glass on the side, Eva curled up in bed, and her mother stroked her hair back from her face, pressing a kiss to Eva's cheek, before she quietly left the room, the door closing behind her.

* * *

But the sickness did not abate, and by the time a week had gone by Eva's suspicions – cold, trickling ice – had begun to take hold. She told no one of her thoughts, only let them whirl mindlessly around. She knew what would settle her worries, but asking for one would set alarms off, surely. Doctor-patient confidentiality, she suspected, did not apply to the woman who was supposedly Loki's whore. Even if it was only a pregnancy test.

Only.  _Only_. Panic was rife within her, and even Aidan noticed how tense she was becoming. Several times her family tried to get her to confess what was bothering her, but she refused to answer. How could she tell them that she may or may not carry Loki's child? The scenarios filled her head: shock, disgust, urging her to abort it, to just get rid of it however she could. Eva tried to tell her mind that that was not how they'd react – but in her frantic state, that worked very little.

"This is stupid," she finally scolded herself aloud, as she leant against the shower wall, the water cascading down, steam clouding the glass partitions. "I shouldn't even be thinking… I'm not pregnant. I'm being silly."

She took that back the next day, when a sombre and concerned Elise placed a thin white object on her bedside table. Instantly Eva protested, a blush colouring her cheeks as she turned her wide-eyed gaze to her mother, shaking her head.

"Mama, I'm – "

"Don't, Eva. Please. Just take it. You've been sick far too many times for it to be a simple illness. Believe me, I know."

The blush darkened – and a stupefied frown creased her brow as a thought entered her mind and she stared at Elise.

"Mama – where did you even  _get_  that from?"

Elise cracked a wry smile, though it was oddly sad in its undertone.

"I'm not so old that I can't have kids, Eva."

Guilt flooded her daughter, and Eva instinctively went forwards to tightly hug Elise, biting her lip.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I have you, and I have Aidan."

"But it's my fault you couldn't have – "

"Stop." Gently, Elise pulled back to look at her saddened daughter. "You must not blame yourself for something that absolutely was in no way your fault. Eva Lena Manning – you are my daughter and I love you. Never think for one second that I blame you for what happened. I never have, and neither has your father." Her fingers tucked a strand of blonde hair behind Eva's ear, expression soft. "If you go into that bathroom and the results are positive, we will support you no matter what you choose. It doesn't matter who the father is. It's a baby. An innocent life – and I'd like to be a grandmother at some point."

Her eyes twinkled as she smiled then, and Eva laughed, glancing down and biting her lip once more.

"I love you," she murmured, raising her head to look at her mother. Elise embraced her once more, and her answer was wholly sincere.

"I know. And you know I love you also."

* * *

It was only when Elise had left that Eva turned her attention to the suddenly hated object on the counter. Inanimate as it was, Eva felt a distinct dislike for it, and a childlike desire to burn it to a blackened crisp using only the power of her eyeballs came to the forefront of her mind.

But, as with all human temptations, curiosity overcame loathing, and Eva found herself feeling the shape of the test in her hand. Cool to the touch. White plastic. Clinical, of course.  _As it should be._

A sudden, horrible vision of her crying out in a hospital room as her body tried to push the baby out of her hit her like a train; Eva closed her eyes, trying to still her trembling body.  _No. Be calm. You're not pregnant. You're not. Just being silly, remember?_

She no longer thought that five minutes later.

The horrific realisation filled her as though she were drowning, and for the first time in months, tears rolled freely down the cheeks of Eva Manning's face as she grappled with her anguish – and her terror.

All the while, Loki had been watching, veiled from sight as he so often was.

The show of unrestrained despair did not surprise him.

What did was the feeling in his heart. But what was it? He could not discern it at first… but then he did, and it only grew, swelled to sit discontentedly in his blackened heart.

Hurt.

* * *


	20. Chapter 20

"She knows."

Fury's eye betrayed nothing as Maria Hill sat across from him. On the desk, a sheaf of documents lay only for his viewing pleasure – if it could be called pleasure at all.

"It changes everything – "

"It changes nothing," Fury cut in brusquely. "She'll still be here."

"And if he intervenes? There's no way we can hold him off long enough to get her out of here. This isn't just a baby, sir. This is his heir."

"He's no king, Agent Hill. That man is as common as you or I."

That raised more than a few questions in Hill's mind.

"Then why are we keeping her here? You can't seriously think that you can barter with Loki, sir. He takes what he wants, when he wants it. What makes you think he'll negotiate with you over this?"

Fury was silent, and for the first time, Maria Hill felt a flicker of unease. His gaze was hard – and she could see just how this war had worn away at him, had shaped him into somebody that no one could have previously pictured, not even the most insightful.

"It's not her we'll negotiate over," he said quietly.

* * *

Eva had not emerged from her room for several days. Not even Aidan's pleading could get her out, and Loki had not visited at all, presumably occupied with his politics. Not that she minded – the less Loki knew about this, the better. Meanwhile she was lost in her anxiety, and every so often her hand would cup her belly, wondering if whatever was growing in there would be her undoing. No doctor could aid her – this was no mere human baby, and there was every chance that the medical staff would seek to kill it dead before it had even been born. It was Loki's child, after all. There was no doubt of that. The god had been quite right when he had observed that no man had warmed her bed in the first months of Loki's conquest of Earth. Eva had been too worried that sex would cause her to care – yet more ammunition for the trickster god to use against her.

So the father was, instead, the god himself.

She knew roughly how far along she was. Two months. Conceived probably during their first few encounters. The pills hadn't worked, and it was that which annoyed her highly. Irrational, since the worst thing should have been that she was carrying the enemy's offspring. But there was something deeply discouraging about the fact that the two per cent chance of pregnancy just so happened to rear its ugly head for  _her_.

"Bollocks," she had muttered once, and promptly chucked the pregnancy test at the wall. Annoyingly, it had stayed intact, solid evidence of her shitty predicament.

Her parents were supportive, as Elise had promised, and Eva could not deny that she was grateful for it. God knew she needed someone to lean on right now. Aidan was his usual caring self, and asked endearingly innocent questions that Eva found surprisingly simple to answer.

One question, however, was whether she would keep the baby. And it was not asked by her brother, but by her mother. It had caused many a sleepless night for Eva, and one night, in an effort to comfort his obviously troubled sister, Aidan had crawled into her bed and curled up beside her. Absent-mindedly, Eva had wrapped an arm around him, and it was only then that she gradually succumbed to sleep, somewhat soothed by the restful breathing of her brother next to her.

And in that simple act, Eva had found her answer.

"You're staying with me, little one," she whispered, stroking her still-flat stomach. "You'll love your grandparents, and your uncle. Your daddy… I don't know what's going to happen there. But there'll be more than enough love for you without him in the picture. We'll get through this, I promise you."

In the morning, however, Eva was not so certain.

"Miss, if you'd like to come with us, please."

Warily, Eva eyed the doctor and the nurse in the doorway. "Why?"

"We'd like to run some tests, check your baby is okay – "

Ha. Good one. Normally, she'd be very happy to let doctors test her, but Eva was not that naïve anymore. These were SHIELD medics, and were very likely devoid of any ethical code when it came to examining the baby of the enemy. She had decided before they'd even finished speaking, and with a sweet smile, she closed the door on them, locking it shut immediately. Whatever 'tests' they wanted, it was not to ensure her health. And that made her very,  _very_  protective of the baby inside her.

It would take them very little time to pursue her even with a locked door as a slight impediment, and she ran to the bathroom, glancing for anything that would aid her escape.

Two seconds later, and her eyes fell on a vent.

She locked the bathroom door – ignoring the banging that sounded from the entrance to her small bedroom – and tested the vent. She lifted once, shifting the pressure, and swore as the vent moved only slightly.

"Come on,  _come on_ ," she grunted, and with an almighty heave that she was sure would only take a flex of Thor's muscles, the vent entrance broke open. She could have wept in relief, and crawled into the shaft, letting the entrance swing shut behind her. Quickly she made her way on her hands and knees – swearing under her breath at how _not fit_  she was – and rounded a corner. With that, she allowed herself to pause for a moment; hidden from view, she felt vaguely safer, but her knees were already protesting at the abuse they had just endured.

But then she heard men shouting, and she scrambled down the passageway, trying to think. Thor's room was two doors down from hers; Steve's was two up. Both would probably aid her, but she was inclined to head towards Thor, knowing that he would protect her unconditionally. Steve was a gentleman – but Thor had actual ties to Loki, and unswerving loyalty to Eva.

_Thor it is._

She shot down the crawlspace as best she could, trying to be as simultaneously quiet as possible. But her panic only increased when the voices of the men grew louder, and there was banging as the vent grill was swung back and forth.

"Through here!"

_Fuck._

Frantic now, her heart racing, she crawled faster than she ever had in her life, and when she came to a vent that she had mentally calculated must belong to Thor's bathroom, she wasted no time.

" _Thor_!"

There was silence.

And then the door burst open. "Eva?"

_God bless Asgardian hearing._

"In here!  _Please_ , get me out!"

Thor did not question it, and in a single second he tore away the grill and pulled her through, more than a little perplexed at her unconventional appearance.

"Eva, what in all the Nine Realms are you  _doing_?" he asked, staring at her with a creased brow.

"SHIELD, they – tests – baby," Eva managed, before sinking to her knees. More than a little concerned now, Thor gently lifted her, brows furrowing deeply at her words, and he laid her gently on his bed.

"Eva, please. What troubles you?"

"SHIELD doctors, they… they want to do tests on my child. But I know what that means. I can't trust them, I can't, they want to hurt the baby, I know they do!" She took his hand, eyes wide with fear. "Please, don't let them take me. Don't let them do this, I –"

"Do what?"

In her panic, Eva hadn't even noticed Tony sitting in a chair, looking mildly more awake and alert than he had these past few weeks. Eva bit her lip as she sat up to face him; she knew that Loki was an extremely sore spot with Stark. Not that she could blame him. She'd be pretty broken too if someone killed her sweetheart.

"SHIELD are after the baby," she said quietly. Tony raised an eyebrow.

"Can't say I'm surprised. It is Rock of Ages's kid, after all."

"You don't need to remind me…"

"Yeah, yeah," Stark dismissed it with a wave of his hand that made Eva silently wonder if he was slightly drunk. "What are you going to do with the hell-spawn?"

Eva looked at him in disbelief.

"Er, keep it?"

Stark gave her a look. "You got balls, Manning – "

Banging suddenly erupted on the front door, and Eva went white. Mjolnir flew into Thor's hand, and he gestured to Eva. "Go into the wardrobe. Now."

Eva obeyed, closing the closet door shut as she sat in total darkness, only to yelp a second later when the door opened. But it was Stark, and he handed her…  _a cell phone?_

"SHIELD can't block it," he told her, glancing out at the banging. "Go on. Do it now." Without even a reassuring smile, Stark shut the door, and Eva stared at the phone. A lifeline. A lifeline that she really, really did not like, and definitely did not want to classify as a 'lifeline'. But it  _was_  one. She didn't realise she was shaking until she tried to key in the number that would both damn and save her. Her thumb slipped, and she swore under her breath.

"Please,  _please_  –"

She managed to dial it after what seemed like the most nerve-wracking length of time, and she pressed the phone to her ear.  _Please pick up, please, please –_

"Yes?"

She could have cried with relief at the sound of that smooth baritone – and she knew how fucked up that was, but right now she barely cared.

"Loki."

The delighted mirth in his voice almost made her break.

"My, my, little lioness. Do you miss me  _that_  much? I would have thought you'd be  _ecstatic_  to be free of me… or am I wrong?"

"Loki –"

"Are you to return to me, lítteinn? Of your own free will? I must say, that  _is_  surprising –"

"Loki." Her voice cracked, and she swallowed. "Please. Don't."

There was a pause, and he had clearly picked up on her genuine distress, for his tone was considerably softer, edged with concern.

"What is it, Eva?"

She bit her lip, trembling.

"I need your help." Only he would know how hard it was for her to speak those words, and his response was sombre, all traces of amusement gone.

"Are you hurt?"

"No, I –" She closed her eyes. "Not yet. But they might try, and I can't keep them away forever, not since they found out that I –" Her voice broke again, and it was no more than a whisper when it finally found its feet.

"Eva," he gently pushed, unusual for him, and she forced the words from her mouth, heavy, rasping.

And damning.

"Not since they found out that I… that I carry your child. I carry your child, Loki, and – "

The door was wrenched open, and Eva screamed as agents wrenched her from the wardrobe, dragging her out and into the bedroom.

Thor was nowhere to be seen, and Stark was lying comatose on the floor. Eva barely had time to register those facts before she was hauled down the corridor. She tried to resist, desperately, but as so often happened, her strength was pitiful, and she was pulled easily down passageways and up flights of stairs, before a door opened and Eva almost choked on the rush of fresh air that hit her.

When the sunlight finally let her see her surroundings, her heart dropped.

Her family were standing, guns poised to their heads. Fury stood beside Aidan, holding the gun to the boy's skull – and she felt bile rise in her throat. All she saw was a man twisted by desperation. Not long ago, he had been a man of integrity, of decency and honour… now?

Now he was as culpable as the rest of the bastards on this godforsaken vessel.

Aidan was shaking; his eyes were wide with terror, and Eva could see that her mother had been crying, face stained with tears and devoid of colour. Guilt pooled within Eva, and she glared at Fury.

"Really?"

"What else can I do? You're my last bargaining chip, Manning." A sort of madness lingered in Fury's eye, and it made Eva very, very wary.

Especially when he dragged Aidan away to the edge of the deck. Elise let loose a strangled yell, and Daniel struggled not to run towards the two of them as the gun muzzle pressed tighter, fear evident as his hands flexed, wanting nothing more than to comfort his little boy.

"Fury, stop," Eva said, urgency plain. The director gave an almost hysterical laugh; it was one that clearly betrayed just how desperate Loki had driven him. As if the gun to a child's head hadn't given that away already. Never before would Eva have believed him capable of such an act, but times had changed everyone. Even the best men were susceptible to madness and horrors. Fury was no exception.

"Please," Eva rasped through a dry throat, dry with apprehension. "He's just a  _child_. He's  _innocent_!"

"Nobody's innocent anymore, Eva Manning," Fury dismissed her, and Aidan winced visibly as the barrel of the gun pressed against his temple. "You see what Loki's done? Huh? He's turned this world into his own personal puppet show!"

"I don't think it's  _quite_  that apt, Nicholas."

Eva let out a breath at the voice that sounded from behind her. Never would she have thought Loki's voice would bring relief. But times had changed.

"Now, let the boy go and I will let you keep your life," he continued, voice unbelievably smooth, without a hint of anger. "As Eva has said, he is innocent. A child. Caught in the crossfire, I believe is the phrase. Let him go. Now."

Fury deliberated – and then Elise let out a scream as he almost casually tossed Aidan over the edge of the ship. Eva's heart jolted, but she felt a rush of air and saw a blur of green and black follow Aidan overboard.

All at once the agents, including Fury, fell to their knees, yelling in pain, and Eva stared as they writhed, curling up into themselves.  _What on earth…?_

Loki's sudden appearance in the air – with a shocked and white-faced Aidan in his arms – caught her attention. Disbelief overwhelmed her as the god landed lightly on the deck, and yet the evidence was there.  _Loki had rescued Aidan._ He had  _saved_  him.

Gently, Loki set the little boy on his feet, and Aidan stared up at the trickster in confusion.

"But… you're the bad guy."

To his credit, Loki didn't seem offended. A tiny smile played with the corners of his lips, and he glanced at the boy's parents.

"Is that what they tell you?"

He turned away without another word, and his eyes were soft as they rested upon Eva, briefly gazing at her stomach before returning to her face.

"And how is the mother of my child?"

Her own eyes narrowed at his lack of surprise, the almost blasé tone with which he delivered that enquiry.

"You knew."

Loki neither hesitated in speech nor wavered in glance.

"I do not deny it. Yes, I knew. I have known ever since Fury discovered it."

Eva wanted to hit him – but Loki had just saved her brother's life. He  _was_  supposed to be the bad guy, as Aidan had previously pointed out. Although one good deed hardly constituted redemption…

"Come." Loki interrupted her inner battle. "It is not safe for you to linger here any longer. Particularly because of what grows in your womb. We must return to New York."

"And what of my family?" she managed to choke out. "What happens to them?"

"They will be returned to their home," he said calmly. "There is no reason why they cannot live as they once did. I will ensure that no harm comes to them. You have my word."

"I told you before, I hold little faith in that."

A quiet laugh rolled from his mouth. "Perhaps that view may change. I have just rescued your brother, after all, and prevented agents from attempting to harm you. Are you not going to question that, my dear?"

There was a thump, and Eva turned to see Thor standing on the deck.

"Where the  _hell_  did you go?" she cried angrily, Loki momentarily forgotten as she focused on the blond behemoth before her. "I was  _dragged_  by SHIELD and forced to watch Fury  _drop my brother off the side of this ship_  – all because  _you_  disappeared!"

"He was looking for me, Eva," Loki said steadily from behind her, and Thor confirmed those words with a wordless nod. "He knew that Fury had lost control. Only I could remedy your situation, and no other."

Eva ran a hand over her face, suddenly tired.

"Fine. Just…"

"Fear not, Eva Manning," Thor said gently. "It will be alright."

Eva fixed him with a challenging stare.

"Can you promise that? Can you?"

Thor inclined his head once more, and then her surroundings shifted, taking her family by surprise – they yelped when they found themselves standing on plush cream carpet and staring at period furniture. Her old suite.

Eva sighed, and turned away from Loki to look at her little brother. He was still shaking, violently, and Eva dropped to her knees in front of him, taking his hands. "Aidan. Aidan. Look at me. It's all right. You're all right. You're safe now. Nobody is going to hurt you."

Eva was as shaken as he was, but she was not going to break in front of her little brother, even when her parents hugged him on their knees as well, her mother's tears streaming as the shock hit her, as the adrenaline wore off and she realised just what she had gone through. Daniel was the only one not crying, although his face was ashen, and his hands were trembling.

Eva did not miss Loki's commanding tone, however, clear through the haze of panic and distress.

"Blankets. Now. Tea for the adults and hot chocolate for the boy. Quickly."

Somebody murmured their assent and left the living room. Eva heard the doors shut followed by Loki's soft footfalls, and she turned her pale face to look up at him.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, plainly disconcerted by his actions.

"I am doing what anyone would. Your family have just had guns to their heads; I should think a hot drink would help them." Loki raised an eyebrow, and Eva could only stare in disbelief.

Trying to understand this man was akin to untangling bindweed – complicated, frustrating, and messy. She could spar with the surface, tease him and toy with him – but each facet she perused was exactly that. A facet. Eva wondered if anyone truly understood Loki. Not even Thor, who had known him longest, had the full measure of the trickster.

And unthinkingly, in that moment, she spoke two words that she would never have uttered to him before.

"Thank you."

Loki watched her, unreadable, before giving her a nod and turning his head to focus on the bundles and trays entering the room. Assuming his kingly façade once more, he slipped easily into the role of sovereign, and Eva's family soon found themselves wrapped in blankets and clutching steaming mugs, sat in armchairs and falling quiet. Eva couldn't blame them. They were in the abode of the enemy, and yet he was treating them in a manner that could almost be labelled as  _kind_. It didn't seem to suit Loki at all.

Hours later, when Aidan had gone to bed – sleeping in his sister's own four-poster for comfort – Eva stayed up with her parents in her living room, dressed in soft pyjamas and a thin robe, clutching another mug of freshly-brewed tea. The evening city lights seeped in through the gaps in the curtains, and the lamps were dimmed. They had been served a wonderful dinner by the kitchen staff (many of whom greeted Eva warmly, much to her parents' surprise)  _sans_  Loki. It appeared that he preferred to stay away when family were around. Predictably, Eva had no inclinations to confront him about it – she would bet that if Loki  _had_  joined them for the evening meal, it would have won the award for 'Most Awkward Dinner Ever', and knocked all the competition straight out of the running.

"Is this where you stayed?" Elise asked as she leant against Daniel, voice soft in the silence of the room. Her daughter gave a nod.

"Yes. This is my suite. And no, I don't understand why he gave me these rooms either," Eva exhaled wearily. "I'm so sorry about SHIELD. I should have negotiated to get you out earlier. I didn't realise Fury was quite that far gone…"

"Eva. Stop." Daniel leant forwards slightly, moving his hand to squeeze hers, his palm warm from holding his own mug. "You're a twenty-six year-old woman with a bachelor's degree in Viking studies and a master's in Scandinavian studies. You're not a politician, sweetheart. Less than a year ago, you were going to accept a wonderful position, live in a decent flat, and do what you wanted to do most – teach. Nine months hasn't changed that, I can see it. But you can't 'negotiate' and 'barter'. You've done well so far, but I worry for you. We both do. You're pregnant with his child, and what on earth are you planning to do? Stay here?"

"Well, I can't go back to SHIELD, can I?" Eva pointed out. She ran a hand through her hair, agitated. "Ironically, the safest place for me to be right now is with Loki. His baby is growing inside of me; he isn't going to do me any harm, probably the opposite. You really think he would hurt me in my condition? He's the type of man to be hell-bent on getting an heir… Wow, that sounds really strange when I say it out loud. Huh." She shook her head, pursing her lips for a moment. "He isn't going to hurt me. Look, he saved Aidan's life. Why, I have no idea, but he did. He saved an innocent child. Think about that for a second, alright?"

Daniel was quiet, tapping his mug in thought. Elise looked anxious, and Eva knew what she was thinking. Her baby girl had been brainwashed into loyalty towards Loki. Ha. Not likely. Eva was going on survival instincts, and since staying with SHIELD had brought her closer to death than living with Loki ever had, she was inclined to remain with the latter.

It did, however, remind her that Elise still believed Loki had raped her daughter. Several times. Eva had let her parents believe the lie in order to keep SHIELD from using her mother and father as blackmail, but now…

Eva sighed – she seemed to be sighing a lot, these days. She supposed it came with the territory.

"And there's something else you should know."

Her parents eyed her warily.

"You're not going to tell your baby has three heads and bursts out of your chest, are you?" Daniel asked hesitantly. Eva cracked a smile and chuckled, the tension lessening a little.

"No, definitely not. Loki isn't human, but he has humanoid characteristics. You don't need to worry about extra heads – though I would hope you'd love your grandchild even if they  _did_  had two more heads than the norm. No, the thing is…" Eva swallowed. "Loki, he… he didn't rape me."

The silence was piercing, as were the gazes of her parents, and not for the first time did she wish the ground would swallow her whole.

"He didn't?" Elise's voice was small, and Eva was well aware just how shocked she was. Whether it was more because her daughter had lied or because her daughter had willingly had sex with the being who had conquered the Earth as he pleased, Eva had no idea. She shook her head.

"No, he didn't. Christ, I… I  _loathed_  him, I still do. But I slept with him. Several times. I didn't tell you it was consensual because I didn't want SHIELD to overhear and use it against me. It could have gone horribly wrong, for you or for me. I didn't want to risk you or Aidan getting hurt because of that piece of information. Please understand me when I say that I lied to protect you both. And Aidan. Do you think I could have borne it if SHIELD blackmailed me with his life? What happened today on the Helicarrier could have happened earlier if they'd known – "

"Do you love him?"

Eva blinked at her father's brusque tone. "What?  _No_! No, I don't. And that is the truth, Dad. I don't love him. I'm not his queen and I sure as hell don't want to be. Yes, I was fucking stupid for sleeping with him, but I – god, I can't even explain why I did it. I honestly can't. Other than the fact that we occasionally have civil conversations about intellectual things, and he does have a sense of humour – albeit a little twisted – I can't explain why. It just happened. A shitty excuse, but there it is."

She set her mug down and ran both hands over her face. This was not how she had wanted things to go. Not at all. Exhaustion suddenly crashed over her, and she got up from the armchair.

"I'm going to bed," she muttered. "I'll see you both in the morning. Let yourselves out."

"Eva – "

Eva ignored them both and walked into her bedroom, closing the door behind her. She rested against the door, her face screwing up as she fought the urge to slam her hand into the wall in frustration. Forcing her breathing to slow, she crawled into bed moments later, and Aidan instinctively snuggled up to her as she put an arm around him, his deep-sleep breathing gradually soothing her anger.

"I know I'm a fool," she whispered, gently kissing his forehead. "I'm sorry, baby brother. I'm so sorry."

Sleep did not come to her until the dawn.

* * *


	21. Chapter 21

"His Grace is not here, my lady. He has gone to council, but he asked me to inform you that you are welcome to travel as you please and do as you wish."

"Thank you," Eva said softly, and the attendant bowed and left the room. Eva's parents both raised eyebrows at that.

"'My lady'… It's true, then," Daniel murmured. "I'd heard rumours, but dismissed them… perhaps I was wrong to."

"Dad, I'm not his queen. I'm not!" she repeated, insistent as she saw the looks they gave her. "They're only addressing me like that because Loki would have their heads if they didn't."

"So he commands that you are to be treated with respect," Elise reasoned, the look still pointed. "That doesn't sound like he sees you as just another woman, Eva."

"Well, of course not. I'm carrying his child, for Christ's sake! But I will not be his consort. I can't stand  _by_  him when I disagree with everything that he stands  _for_!" Eva ran a hand through her hair, exasperated. It was the morning after Loki had brought them back to the Chrysler, and Eva would be lying if she said she wasn't relieved that Loki had already left. She did not need a confrontation between her father and her captor. Or was that saviour? She barely knew anymore. It had all become so twisted so soon, and the lines were blurring. Nothing had ever been black and white with Loki, but now it seemed that even the shades of grey had their own subdivisions.

"He isn't going to stick a crown on my head," Eva insisted. "He isn't."

Elise's eyes suddenly lit up with an idea, and she gestured for a pen. Confused, Eva handed her one, and Elise began to write on one of the napkins.

WHAT IF IT HELPED THE HUMAN RACE?

Eva stared at her mother, mouthing,  _what do you mean?_

IF BEING HIS QUEEN GAVE YOU INFLUENCE OVER HIM, WOULDN'T THAT HELP? YOU HAVE POWER, EVA. YOU COULD SWAY HIM.

Elise had a point. The idea was slowly unfurling in Eva's mind, and she slowly nodded, before pointing to the napkin. With her hands, she imitated fire. If anyone got their hands on that, anyone loyal or desperate…

Eva took the pen, and quickly scribbled.

TAKE THE NAPKIN, AND GO OUT. GO OUT TO A RESTAURANT, A MUSEUM OR A GALLERY. USE THE BATHROOM THERE. FLUSH THAT AWAY.

Her parents nodded, and Elise stood up. "Aidan?"

"Yeah?" came the soft alto.

"We're going out."

"There's a private car that can take you," Eva said. Her father looked disgusted, but Eva only raised an eyebrow.

"I'm only saying that because they're bulletproof. Any taxi driver would probably love to get their hands on the parents of the King's whore."

Wisely, neither her mother nor her father chose to comment.

"What about you?" Daniel asked. "You can't stay here. You'll go stir crazy."

Aidan wandered into the room, interrupting their conversation.

"Eva, where does the locked door go to?"

"The locked door?"

"Yes. There's a door in your room that's locked. Can we see what's behind it?  _Please_?"

Ah, the inspiring curiosity of children. Locked doors and passageways were always fascinating to them – but Eva frowned in confusion.

"What door? There isn't one –"

"Yes, there is! Look!" He ran into the bedroom, clearly expecting his sister to obey him.

Eva sighed, and she followed her little brother, as well as their curious parents. What she saw both bemused her and yet filled her with a strange sense of familiarity, so much so that she knew instantly what her brother was referring to.  _That_  door. It was slightly wider than a normal entranceway, the patina of the wood glossy and dark. Aidan went up to it and tried the doorknob, sighing when it would not open for him.

Eva made her way to where he stood, waiting for her, and she simply turned the handle, unnerved at how she somehow knew what to do, that the sense of familiarity pushed her towards a door which she had never seen before.

There was a click, and the door eased open. Aidan stared.

"But… why can't I open it and you can?"

"Magic," she whispered, and it was no lie, she suddenly realised. "Loki's doing. It shouldn't fit into a skyscraper, but it does. Only he or I may open it."

Words spoken automatically – and the loss of control over her tongue had Eva instantly troubled.

"Where does it lead to?"

"Aidan," Daniel said warningly, but Eva shot him a reassuring glance amidst the inner turmoil in her mind.

"It leads to Loki's suite," she explained – though how she knew, she had no idea. "It's a small passageway until you reach his door."

"And he isn't here, right?"

Alarm bells rung in her mind, and she fixed the boy with a look. "Aidan, no. Not a good idea – "

But the boy had already pushed open the door and gone through.

"Aidan! Stop! Get  _back_  here!"

Eva swore and followed him through. She physically had to grab him and restrain him from going any further, though of course he struggled.

"Eva!"

"Aidan, no," she said. "You can't. Please. Do not. He might have saved your life, but he is not a good man. He would not hesitate to punish you if you insulted him." Slowly, she let him go, and he simply stood there. Eva knelt, and turned him to face her. Her hand took his as her eyes gazed up at him.

"He is a dangerous man, Aidan. He is not kind. He is not merciful. I do not know why he saved you, but I will be forever glad he did. Just listen to me. Whatever he says – do not believe him. Do not trust him. Do you understand me?"

Silently, Aidan nodded, biting his lip. "I'm sorry."

Eva's gaze softened, and she straightened, placing a kiss to his forehead.

"I just want you to be safe, kiddo," she murmured. "That's all."

She led him back into her suite, closing the door behind her. Her parents eyed her warily, and she glanced away. "You said you were going out?"

"Where are we going?" Aidan piped up, looking energetic once more. Daniel managed to summon a smile.

"Museum of Natural History."

"Like the one in London?"

"Yes. But only this one's in New York."

"Does it have dinosaurs?"

Eva laughed, as did Elise, and Daniel's smile widened.

"I'm sure it does."

The three of them left then, Aidan's eagerness endearing, and it was then that Eva turned her attention back to the secret passageway. She had never seen it before, never noticed it was there, yet she seemed to know everything about it, enough that she was able to inform Aidan quite easily.

Loki.

Eva rolled her eyes – but then the comprehension dawned upon her. Tampering with her mind, perhaps? That sent a chill through her, and it was swiftly followed by a kind of anger that roiled and rasped within her, grasping at her fibres and every other feeling she could have until anger was all that she knew. It may have been an overreaction on her part, yet the concept of Loki not only invading her mind but also tampering with it sent her ire into overdrive.

Before she knew it, she was striding out of her rooms and down the corridor – straight to Loki's council chambers.

The guards, however, did not see fit to let her pass.

"Sorry, ma'am. His Grace does not want to be disturbed."

Well, fuck that. Eva's eyebrows lifted, and her stance instantly became, unknown to her, regal and poised.

"I will not say it again. Let me pass. I wish to speak to him – " Eva could never say 'the King' " – and you will not deny me thus. Am I understood?"

The guards glanced at each other, and then, reluctantly, they parted. The doors eased open, and without hesitation, Eva walked into the chamber.

"… I will not tolerate this again. Do you understand me?"

Loki did not look pleased. The councillor currently under scrutiny looked at though he wanted the ground to swallow him whole for all eternity, but Eva's arrival gave the room pause for thought. Loki raised his head, and a smile graced his features, leonine grace returning to his posture.

"Ah, Eva. This gentleman here has disobeyed the express order of his King. Shall I execute him?"

"If you're still alive after I'm done with you," she replied acidly. Several councillors fought to hide smiles, lowering their heads, and Loki raised an eyebrow. He waved his hand. "Leave us."

The men rose from their seats and silently left, though not before bowing to him and then to her, much to Eva's surprise.

"Do tell me what it is that I have done to offend you so," Loki said languidly, appraising her from his seat. "Or am I to acknowledge this as the first of the infamous mood changes associated with expecting a child?"

Anger shaped her features, and she strode over to him.

"The door," she seethed. "How  _dare_  you. How dare you tamper with my mind!"

Loki eyed her, and he tilted his head, as if she were nothing more than a mere curiosity. It stoked her ire more than his trademark smirk would have, but then her anger was replaced by shock as he casually leant forwards to press his palm gently against her stomach. A pause, and then a startlingly soft smile curved his thin mouth.

"Perfectly fine," he said contentedly. "As if I would let our child be any less than that."

Eva withdrew a step, uncomfortable with the sudden tenderness he seemed to display. "Don't change the subject, Loki. Your magic. My mind. What did you do?"

Loki glanced to the side, unbothered by her steadily reappearing wrath. "A simple spell, nothing more. Easier than explaining it to you in person when I was otherwise engaged in other matters."

"That doesn't give you the right to mess with my mind! You can't do that, Loki! I'm not your property, and you could at least be bloody courteous enough to actually tell me!"

"And you, madam, should hold your tongue," he cut in icily. His eyes flashed. "Be silent. I cannot cater to your every whim; if the opportunity to 'kill two birds with one stone' arises, then I take it. So it was with the issue you appear to find so grievous. You are too quick to anger, Eva. Keep your temper in check, not least because it is stressful for the child."

"A child I never wanted!" she hit back, suddenly snapping. "I never wanted to be your lover, I don't want to be your queen! I don't want this anymore! I can't live in fear, on a knife-edge! For god's sake, I – I just want to live!" She passed a hand over her face, a humourless, broken laugh sounding. "I want a job, I want a husband who I can love, a simple life!"

"And you think I cannot give you that?"

"Of course you can't! This is not simple! You are a megalomaniacal alien with serious parental issues who decided to claim jurisdiction over a planet that only believes you to be a fucking myth! Tell me how that is simple!"

"You have protection; you are worthy of a king and you are with my child. Your life  _is_  simple, Eva – you have little else to trouble yourself with aside from your pregnancy –"

" _And I'm stripped of my freedom_!" she yelled. "You think that the concept of freedom is a lie – it isn't! I was free before you came along! I could make my own choices, decide my fate, and now I am at your mercy. If I try to leave, I am brought back. If I want to do something – such as get fresh air and green spaces – I have to ask you. Do you have any idea how  _humiliating_  that is?"

Loki rose from his seat, and his eyebrow lifted.

"You think yourself equal to me, Eva Manning. You are not. You may carry my child, but you are not my equal. You are human and thus beneath me. Freedom is a lie for your race. Can you not see it? Are you really so blind?"

"I see what everyone else sees – oppression! We never asked for you to come along and divide our nations up as it suits you! We never asked for our ways of living, our cultures to be suddenly influenced by your whims! Even those who do not believe in democracy are hostile towards you! I bet you shielded what happened in Iraq from the press. Did you not want pictures of the protest streaming across the world?"

Ah, he should have known she'd be aware of that. It had been rather unfortunate, but with one rather final demonstration he had silenced the rally in a single second. One human life was nothing if it brought him victory, dominion. SHIELD had undoubtedly informed her of the event, though they could hardly use it against him now that Fury had lost his mind. The organisation had lost credibility. They were weak. And there was nothing to challenge him anymore.

"Your belligerence is petty," Loki replied steadily. "It serves no purpose other than to demonstrate just how hopeless your supposed 'cause' is. Look at you! You have nothing. You are the bedmate of a king, carrying his offspring in your womb. You are not a soldier; you are a scholar. I know what you want. You want to stand at the forefront of a rebellion, to stand before me and smile as I lose everything. To throw your hands up in jubilation as I am led away in chains, utterly defeated. But you see – that will never come to pass. Ever. So I suggest you keep your pretty mouth closed and attend to the babe growing within you. I have other far more important matters to address than your pointless protestations. Cease them."

Eva flushed as he dismissed her. Her eyes blazed, but she was unable to utter nothing more, so demeaning was his attitude. And yet it struck her very soul. He was right. She  _did_  want to see him fall, yet the manner in which he dismantled her wishes had her feeling almost deflated, shamed.

Loki's fingers easily tilted her chin up to face him. "Look at me, Eva."

Slowly, she did, and he smiled.

"That's better. Now, shall I call for some refreshment? I cannot have you going hungry."

Eva looked at him, eyes searching his even as she loathed obeying his command, and the question slipped from her lips, quiet, laced with thought.

"Why me, Loki?"

He gave no reply, only kissed her forehead, and then guided her out of the chamber, his hand at the small of her back. Lunch was taken in her suite, the sun shining into the lounge, and he encouraged her to eat as much as she desired.

"I am going to relocate the court," he said calmly, as she sipped at a cup of jasmine tea. Eva raised a brow questioningly.

"I was not aware you had a court," she replied. Loki sat back in his chair, his piercing gaze appraising her.

"I am going to move the court to Germany," he continued, watching as Eva's eyes widened in surprise. "You need somewhere to raise our child, and the middle of a dirty, bustling city such as New York is no place for such a young being. I have ordered a palace in Berlin to be readied for our arrival with the next two weeks. You will spend the remainder of your pregnancy there. It is perfectly adequate for the task, and the gardens are quite fine enough for your requirement of 'fresh air and green spaces'."

Carefully, Eva set the cup down upon its saucer, and she measured her words before speaking.

"Which palace?"

She had visited many, on her annual stays in the country that her mother had grown up in. All were beautiful. All had a history behind them.

"Charlottenburg Palace."

Had Eva still been drinking, she would have choked.

" _Charlottenburg_?" Her stare was incredulous. "But… that's a public attraction! You can't seal it off from the people!"

"I can, and I have. You really are quite forgetful about the fact that I can do whatever I wish," he remarked dryly. "The Palace will be your home for the next few months. Worry not, you will have all you require."

She was silent in her shock. Charlottenburg was a beautiful place, and she had visited many a time, but to call it  _home_?

"It is too grand for me," she murmured. "I don't need luxury. I don't need opulence."

"You do now," Loki responded simply, and he stood. "I will brook no arguments, Eva. The court will move, and you will go with them. That is final."

No further argument was made; only a look of fire was sent his way. Satisfied, he walked over to the windows, glancing out at the city as flakes of snow began to drift from the heavens. Cold had never bothered him, of course, but he was well aware that it bothered Eva. He heard her intake of breath as the fur blanket wrapped itself around her, and he turned his head to see her surprise. His lips twitched at her expression. Priceless, as the mortals might say.

"Comfortable?"  
"Yes, thank you," she replied frostily. He chuckled.

"Good. I'll be sending your family to their home in England before we leave for Germany; it isn't feasible keeping them here when they should be going back to normality."

"You're sending them home? But they can't go back! They will get torn apart!" Eva cried, plainly horrified at the idea, sudden images of possibility swarming her mind.

"Of course they can. There is no reason why your father cannot resume his job and Aidan return to school."

"And do you really think my father won't get abuse and my brother won't be bullied?"

"They will not dare."

"Carry on believing that all you like; you clearly don't understand humanity."

His smile was humourless.

"Oh, Eva. I understand humanity all too well. It is  _you_  who is mistaken."

He turned his attention back to the city, and Eva pulled the fur closer to her body, grudgingly appreciating the warmth it provided.

"As long as my family are safe, that's all I care about," she murmured. Unseen to her, Loki's face tautened a little, his jaw tensing as memories flashed through his mind, but his voice was perfectly even.

"Of course."


	22. Chapter 22

As long as her family were kept safe. Were he a softer man, he might almost admire that sentiment. But family was not a subject he cared to dwell much upon, not since Odin had rejected him and Thor had chosen the side of the idiots.

"You really believe Odin views you as unequal to Thor, don't you?" came Eva's voice from the table, considerably softer. "Why?"

"Your realm is not the only one with racism," Loki replied tautly, staring out at the healing city. "Asgard and Jotunheim have been at war for as long as I can remember. I was taken from Jotunheim as an infant, from a temple. I was raised to loathe the frost giants as all Asgardians were. I'm certain you can imagine the dilemma I faced when I discovered my true heritage as the son of the Jotun King."

She was silent for a moment, biting her lip and glancing at him with something akin to sympathy.

"It's a mask you wear, isn't it?"

He went very, very still, and therein lay the answer. Eva rose from her seat and walked over to him, staring up at his expressionless profile.

"Even now, you cannot bring yourself to face who you are. You have a throne; you have power, an unborn child… and yet peeling back the layers to reveal the true you… you cannot do it, because that is what terrifies you. Isn't it?" She glanced out to view New York, and her words were almost sad in tone.

"I could pity you."

She made to turn away from the windows, when his hand grasped her arm, unrelenting in grip.

"And do you?" His voice was raw, making Eva look up at him once more to see his features shaped into something truly saddening.

"Yes, I think I do."

His lips were upon hers in a single second, and she did not fight him. Not even as his hands began to strip her bare and she felt soft sheets beneath her back. Not even as his clothing disappeared and his mouth found naked skin, marking and burning her flesh, making her arch up, his fingers bringing forth emotions that sent her heart ricocheting.

"I don't love you," Eva warned him. Loki merely smiled, and leant over her to press his lips to her collarbone.

"I never expected you to, my dear."

And he sheathed himself within her. It was not gentle, but neither was it the furious passion that had dominated so much of their sexual encounters. No. This was the in-between. It was not a fight for control but simply a venture into pleasure. Two lovers caught up in their feelings for the other, and she could not deny that for all his displeasing qualities, his skills in bed – and out of it – were unparalleled. Within minutes the two of them were a tangled, primal mess, and she'd almost forgotten why she hated the man.

When they had finished, she did not flinch away from him as she had always done before, and his thumb traced her cheekbone as they lay in bed together.

"What a strange creature you are," he murmured. "You say you cannot stand me, and yet here we are. What think you of this, Lena?"

The use of her middle name startled her for a moment, as did the unusual softness in his eyes.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I don't know."

His hand was gentle upon her stomach, his thumb caressing the skin.

"And this little one…"

"They won't be your heir. That will not happen," she replied quietly. "I don't want that for our child. Not when you will fall regardless."

"I do wish you wouldn't delude yourself so," he sighed, rolling off her and lying on his back, one knee bent. "Every day, my hold over Midgard grows. I am its King, and yours. Accept it."

"And what if I can't? What if I never can?"

His smile spoke volumes.

"Eva, you accepted it the moment you dropped that glass and threw yourself at me. You know that. Why else would we be here now? If I were sentimental, I might suggest love. But you and I both know that  _that_  is impossible."

"I can't love the man who has taken my home for his own," she said quietly. Soft laughter sounded from beside her.

"Did I ask for love? No. As I said, I do not expect it. You share my bed and that is enough." His hand snaked over to rest over her still-flat stomach. "That is, unless you consent to be my queen. There is always that, of course."

Eva did not speak, did not move. Were it not a basic automatic function, she might not even have breathed. She was so still, so suddenly deep in thought, that she inhaled in surprise as Loki rolled, grasped her by the waist and lifted her to straddle him.

This was new. And yet, somehow Eva doubted that he was the submissive type – especially when one hand of his held her hip. She cocked an eyebrow, and his eyes were unreadable. He took her hand in his free one, and, closing it into a fist, he brought it gently to rest over his heart.

"And if you had a blade, would you?" he asked intently, forcing Eva to look at him. "Would you kill me, right here, right now? Could you do it? You would be hailed a heroine, a saviour of the human race. All because you killed a man. Could you live with that, Lena? Could you?"

"Stop it."

"You would be saved from all those mobs you fear. No one would loathe you ever again. No one would harm you. You could live untouched by hatred. People would adore you. Never mind that you had the blood of a man on your hands. Oh, no. That would be entirely excusable, because you just 'saved' an entire race – "

"I said stop!"

Loki watched as Eva sat there, eyes burning, trembling. He released her, and she closed her eyes, biting her lip. He almost felt pity for her; she was so unused to the violent world that he had spent so much time in. And yet, she'd lasted far longer than he'd expected. Perhaps he was proud of that.

"Eva…"

"You know I couldn't do that, so why ask me?" she said shakily. "Why? I couldn't kill anyone, even a being as twisted and malicious as you. I'm not that kind of person. Don't try and make me into a killer. Don't."

"Hush. I know you could not kill me. You may desire to, but you do not have the stomach for it. Scholar, not soldier. Consort, not combatant." His hand cupped her breast, thumb lazily caressing. "I know you, Eva. And I want you as my queen." He suddenly sat up, hands trailing her arms, voice soft in cadence. "So tell me, Lena. Yea or nay?"

Eva looked up at him. She was so close to him that his chest was mere inches from hers, and she swallowed.

"How can I?" she whispered. "With all that you stand for, all that you have done, how can I say yes?"

Fingertips traced her jaw, tilted her chin, brushed her lips, and his eyes softened, lessening the harshness that she had grown so used to.

"For the simple reason that I will protect you, and our child. I will bring the two of you into a new age, into a world where you need fear nothing. Where you need worry about nothing. You will be safe, and Midgard given the guidance it so desperately needs. Believe me. I may be known as Liesmith, but it is here I give you utmost truth. And so, I ask you once more, Eva, Lena, my lady. Will you come or no?"

Her eyes studied the outlines of his face. The sincerity in his expression. The surprising gentleness of his eyes. The light, tender touch of his hands.

It was too much, and she closed her eyes. "Loki, I – I…"

His kiss upon her forehead was bittersweet, and she leant her own against his chest. She had fought long and hard against this, what he wanted, what he asked of her. Asked, not commanded. And it troubled her, how close to wavering she seemed to be.  _What is happening?_

She felt his fingers comb gently through her curls, soothing her.

"What am I doing, Loki?" she whispered. "Why am I here?"

"Because you want to be," he answered softly.

And this time she did not refute him.

"I can't do this alone," she murmured. "I can't."

"You do not have to. I fathered the child, and I intend to be involved in the little one's life. Fear not, Eva. I will be here."

Raising her head, her eyes met his, and her fingers tentatively touched his jaw.

"I should not be doing this."

"It is a little late for that," he replied.

Her lips claimed his, and there wasn't a single shred of fight in their embrace. It was an exploration of feelings, of curiosity. But of trust? Neither would go so far as that. Both would deem such a thing ridiculous, laughable.

"Isn't there a form of protection on Asgard? Why didn't you use it?" she asked, between kisses. Loki's smile was gently amused, but not cruel.

"No, there is not. It is… rare that a female conceives, given the length of time Asgardians live. Otherwise the population would suffer greatly. Thus, children are few and far between."

"That would explain why you're centuries old and childless, then."

"Exactly."

His fingertips trailed up her spine, causing it to bend in a graceful arc just as his mouth found purchase on the newly exposed throat, the pale skin inviting lips forth.

"If you hated me as you so love to declare, you would have protested my touch, loathed it," he murmured, indulging and leaning close to her neck, watching her pulse. "What a little liar you are. Deceiving your mind, but I can see your heart, Eva Manning. You wear it on your sleeve, try as you might to conceal it. Oh, the public do not see it, but I? I do. I see it in your fire, your eyes, your every movement. Traitor-queen, they will call you. No longer a martyr to the cause, but a willing defector to the winning side. That is what you are, my dear. I came, I saw, I conquered. Just as Caesar did so many centuries ago. Shall I call you queen now?"

Eva was flushed, and it wasn't from his proximity or their nakedness. He had hit home, once again. Was she really so easy to read?

"Run from this if you like," he continued. "No doubt you would always run, if you could. Run from the truth. I suspect that is what you do when the truth is something you cannot face. But you will come back to my bed, Eva. You always have. You could have refused many a time, and I would have let you alone. But no. Still you came, made your own advances on a few occasions, and now you refuse to accept what sits in your heart."

Her mouth opened to protest, and he laughed and laughed.

"And again, I am proved correct."

"This doesn't change the fact that I still want you gone from Earth," she whispered. "Always. I might share your bed and carry your child, but if there was a chance to oust you, I would."

"Precious girl. You wouldn't. You need me to save that child in your belly. Stop lying, Eva. It doesn't suit you at all."

"Just as truth doesn't suit you."

He calmly flipped her back onto the bed, leaning over her, his ink-black mane long enough that the tips brushed her collarbones.

"I wear it well enough," he replied simply, and suddenly delicious warmth spread through her body as he laid her hands on her belly. Confused, Eva cocked a brow at him in questioning.

"You carry a jotun child. You are not far enough yet, but it may cause you to become so cold that it is dangerous for you. I am taking no chances, Eva. I cannot lose my heir."

"Heir. Not even a child. Is that all this baby is to you, just a way to continue your bloodline?" Disgust coloured Eva's voice, and Loki looked at her almost pityingly.

"Oh, Eva. My sweet queen. You truly are a delight."

"I'm questioning your parenting skills, Loki."

This time he chuckled, and the kiss was laid upon her forehead. His fingers drew a strand of hair back from her face.

"You're messing with my head," she whispered. He shook his head, sober once more.

"No," came the murmur. "This is all your doing, Lena."

She pushed him away, and swung her legs over the bed, rising to her feet. She padded into the bathroom, and, placing her hands on the sink's rim, she stared at herself in the mirror. Mussed blonde mane, spots of pink upon her cheeks, alabaster skin. But it was her eyes that frightened her most. They looked more alive than they ever had, more vibrant, and one hand slipped to feel her belly. Still nothing. Not that there would be for another couple of months.

"We've lost, haven't we?" she whispered. Loki watched her from the doorway, as naked as she.

"No. You haven't. You have risen, Eva. Risen to become the most important woman of the realm. The King's lover, and soon-to-be Queen. Mother of the King's child. You have not lost at all."

"If I were not pregnant, would you let me walk out, right now? Would you let me walk away from all this?" She looked at him in the mirror, fearless, and Loki tilted his head.

"No."

"Then I have lost."

"I beg to differ. You could not walk away if you tried, and not because you are with child. Must I make you see the truth, again? You know the answers to your anxieties. Do not verbalise them when you know I will only reinforce the facts. You want to stay; I can see it from here. The only reason you are so disturbed by the revelation is because you believe you cannot accept and stay with the apparent 'villain' of this tale. But I am no villain, Eva. I am simply the leader putting your world to rights."

"The hero?"

"The guide," he answered calmly, and Eva exhaled. Loki advanced, and he ran his hands down her arms, lips moving to her shoulder.

"You will come to see this, in time."

Her eyes closed. "No. I never will."

"Then we are at an impasse. However will we solve this?"

"We can't."

* * *

_Loki wandered. The air was damp, and his spine prickled._

_The voice was dark, malicious, and full of an evil that even Loki could not comprehend but had the child inside him trembling._

_"You almost failed, Asgardian."_

_A voice with an unseen form. Loki turned amidst the black rock walls, seeking a body but finding none. Something he had well used in his lifetime, but this was backward. And unnerving._

_"I have Midgard under my thumb," he declared steadily amidst his inner unease. "I have done what you asked."_

_A sinister chuckle, and sudden pain nearly tore Loki's mind apart. He fell to his knees, clutching his skull as he fought not to scream in agony, and the voice spoke once more, amused._

_"So you did. But we are not done, Asgardian. We are coming for you. You cannot hide. We will find you, and take the Tesseract. Reduce you and that petty realm to nothing. It is too late for pleas, Loki. You are finished."_

The god awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright, his breathing hard and painfully rapid as he glanced around, panicked. Sweat lingered over him like the clammy hands of _those creatures,_  and he swallowed.  _Not again. No._

Beside him, Eva slept, her face at peace, and Loki slowly calmed, a shaking hand reaching over to feel her cheek. Warm with sleep. He'd been visited by mirth when she'd stayed in bed with him hours before, but now… now he was grateful for it. An odd, unfamiliar feeling, however, and he was not quite sure how to digest it.

He slid back beneath the covers, and his arms drew Eva close, earning a muffled, confused protest from the woman herself. He simply kissed her shoulder. "Nothing is wrong. Go back to sleep, Lena."

He waited until he heard the steady breathing resume, and then he sighed, allowing her soft form to reassure him, her even heartbeat giving him something to focus on besides the fear taking root once more in his damaged heart. Had he ever been safe? Even when Midgard had been taken, had that not ensured his survival?

Apparently not.

Were he a lesser man, Loki's anxiety would have made him shake uncontrollably, and allowed the sickening feeling to strengthen in his stomach. But he was a god, and he had never let his emotions take hold so strongly. He was not about to start that now. He had a realm to govern, a woman to safeguard, and a child to protect. A hand felt Eva's belly, and the spark of life soothed him. Thriving, despite the environment it grew within. Clearly, a human body was not designed to carry a frost giant babe, but Eva's was being remarkably staunch. It almost made Loki smile, and he closed his eyes, permitting his head to rest back upon the pillow.

For the first time in a long, long while, with the thought of his burgeoning offspring in his mind, he slept undisturbed. Eva awoke in the morning, still enclosed in Loki's arms, and shock flared within her at the unusual intimacy. But when she heard his soft breathing, and realised that he was wholly relaxed, she relented. Somehow she felt no urge to disturb this serenity. It was quiet, tranquil. No harsh words or filthy actions. No roughness. Just… this. What it was, Eva could not quite name, but it did not matter. She simply lay there in this strange contentment, and when she finally turned around to look at the sleeping god, gentle surprise grew within her.

Loki wore the softest of smiles upon his face.

 


	23. Chapter 23

The palace was beautiful; Eva could not deny that. A definite improvement on the Chrysler. Charlottenburg was an architectural wonder. But it wasn't England. It wasn't near her family. Oh, her family knew of her… condition, but she had not seen them for days. Loki had had them sent back to England – promising that no harm would come to them. He and his lady, however, had relocated to Germany, as he had said they would.

Loki's smile, for once, was gentle, and he guided her into the rooms that she instinctively knew were hers before he had even confirmed it. They were opulent, furnished beautifully, and the full scale of her position suddenly hit her.

Eva Manning, a once hopeful scholar, was no longer that. Instead, she was Eva of Midgard – Queen. Of an entire realm. It was not a position that she had wanted, but her current state meant that she had no choice. She carried a King's child in her womb, and Loki had seen fit to dispel the 'whore' remarks that had been flung her way far too many times. His spokespeople had made the announcement mere days ago: Eva Manning was to be his queen, and thus…

Wife. She could barely stand to think the word, and her hand rested uneasily upon her slow-swelling stomach, as if the babe growing within could give her some measure of calm. Almost three months gone, though thankfully the gently clinging gown revealed her condition to none.

Killing the child had never been an option for her. Openly, she was pro-choice, but privately, personally, in her own circumstances, she was pro-life. She could not terminate her own creation. Yet neither could this babe be put up for adoption for a 'more suitable' family. There was no family more suited than this one. If it were not for Loki's magic keeping her warm, she would have died from the cold the half-jötunn child radiated. No other being on this earth knew more about the frost giants than Loki himself – and she suspected that he would make a better midwife than any of the human ones available.

"What are you thinking?" came his soft, curious voice. She raised an eyebrow.

"You tell me, mind-reader."

He made a sound of amusement, and his fingertips brushed her cheek.

"I do not always look into your thoughts, Eva. So please, indulge me."

Eva sighed, and glanced away.

"The birth."

"Ah." His hand moved to cup her belly. "Have no fear, my lady. It will be all right."

"Trying to comfort me?" She could not hold back the sarcastic tone, and he exhaled.

"I will not let you be harmed, Eva. You are carrying my child – a King's child. You will have the best care available."

"Yes, and most would rather see my baby and myself dead. They could just as easily poison me as heal me."

"No. I will not allow that to happen," he assured her calmly. "You said it yourself: mind-reader. Any who come with ill intent will be quickly discovered. You will deliver the child, Eva, and no harm shall come to you. That I can swear to you." Uncharacteristically, he took her hand in his, and raised it to his lips. "I promise,  _minn dróttning_."

She tensed at that name, and turned away. "Do not call me that."

"Why not? It is who you are. My queen. Do you deny your title, then?"

"I would if I could," she replied curtly. "I had no wish for this. You know that."

Slowly, he turned her back to face him, and his expression was almost tranquil. "Ah, but if I let you go, now… you would be hunted by the press. You would have no protection, Eva, and you would be left to the mercy of your own people. Do you not see the dilemma?"

She did, but that didn't mean that she appreciated the status she had now. "I just… I want what I had before. Anonymity. Safety. No one knew who I was, nobody gave a damn. And I was content. Happy. But you tore that away. Made me visible, to every single person on this planet. I'm somebody now that I would never have even dreamed of being. Queen of this world. Don't you know how ridiculous this all is? I'm a queen, with an heir growing inside me, and wife to a husband I can barely stand!"

"No different to your monarchs of old, then," he remarked dryly, and he laughed as she smacked his chest. Catching her hand, he pressed a kiss to her palm, his eyes amused. "Oh, Eva. You are the most significant human being in this realm. You carry a worthy burden, a burden that you will hold in your arms within four months. My son."

"Your son?" she cried in disbelief. "How can you possibly know that you've fathered a son?"

"Because I do," Loki replied, infuriatingly simply. "That is my son within your womb, Eva."

"Oh, please do not tell me that Asgard is sexist enough that a woman cannot rule or inherit thrones!" she hissed, abruptly livid. "Are you telling me that should I birth a daughter, you will disregard her?"

Loki's eyebrows lifted, and he tutted.

"And what cause would I have to disregard, as you put it, any child of mine? Gender should not affect the level of love you bear for your offspring – "

"Love?" Eva laughed derisively. "What would you know of love? Hmm? You've never loved in your life, Loki, so don't give me that. You only want this child to ensure your bloodline – though that is entirely pointless, seeing as you will be overthrown in mere months."

"Oh? And where will that leave you, I wonder? Alone, with an infant son, without any protection, and every single intelligence agency hunting you as if you were a fox. You would be utterly helpless, Eva. You need me. Accept that. You need the care and safety I can give you. That I do give you. You are protected here. You will live safely, and in peace. No one will ever hurt you. I can promise you that."

Eva's mind fell back to the moment when she had accepted, and her heart tugged.

" _Will you come or no?"_

_"Why do you insist?" Eva cried angrily, backing away. "I am not she!"_

_"I am asking. You are the most suited to the role, believe me," Loki answered steadily, his eyes flickering. "You carry my child and you are not afraid of me. An admirable quality, one that I value in you. You are not frightened of confronting me." His lips twitched, betraying his mirth at the memories of her bite and bark. "A she-wolf indeed. My lioness."_

_"I hope you've stopped wanting to tame me," she retorted coldly. Loki laughed, his eyes warmly amused, for once free of malice._

_"I have. Your strength is worthy of such a crown as a queen's. Come, Lena. Be mine." He advanced, and his fingers brushed her jaw, soft and smooth. "Be the Queen I know you are. At my side. Helping your beloved Midgard to better itself. What say you, Eva Manning?"_

_Eva was silent, struggling. As she had been for weeks, trying to decline for as long as she could. Every fibre in her being screamed at her to refuse, but she could not ignore her mother's words, wise as Elise was despite her unease around the Norse god._

_You have power, Eva. You could sway him._

_The King's lady looked up at him, eyes steady, firm, and she spoke the simple yet solemn words that made the lady into the Queen._

_"I accept."_

_Loki's smile was triumphant, and he raised her hand to his lips._

_"My Queen."_

* * *

Loki stood on the edge of a cliff, gazing down at the landscape below. A roaring sea, flecked with foam, crashing down upon the beach. It matched the god's mood perfectly. His mind was in turmoil, for though he had won Eva's hand –  _finally_  – there were other matters to attend to. Matters concerning the Earth and beyond.

_They know._

_He is coming._

_And you will die._

His hand tightened on the sceptre. He could feel fear creeping down his spine like the cold sweat of a dream. And he could rely on no one. Not even the Avengers, were he to utilise them, would be able to stop this.

_They have no idea._

The scars on his body had healed, but the ones on his mind were threatening to rupture. He knew he had looked much worse for wear when he had first arrived – but the Other had been right. He  _was_  ready to lead.

And now they thought him ready to die. An insignificant pawn, easy to kick aside in order to advance to the main goal.

It did not take a genius to know what that goal was.

_But that will not happen. No._

Loki might have had resolve, however it did not stop him from feeling the apprehension settle over his heart like the hand of a jötunn. And squeeze. If he told anyone just what might happen… panic would ensue, and he would no longer be viewed as King. The mortals would take matters into their own hands. Foolish beings. The forces that were coming were much stronger than a few legions of Chitauri. Earth did not have a hope.

But he knew damn well that Asgard would intervene. The safety of a realm threatened, after all. Odin would not be best pleased. Not that Loki cared. He was past satisfying the old man. He had never been able to do that; why try now?

Glancing up at the sky, his eyes fell to slits as they briefly focused upon the sun. A sun that could very well be blacked out. On impulse he lifted from the cliff, higher and higher until he could gaze upon miles of landscape. No doubt the humans would view this curiously, but he had little care for that now. He had other things on his mind.

He turned in the air and flew north.

It was close to Christmas now. Eva watched the snow from the window, her gaze wistful. The snow blanketed the grounds - it was far more copious than the snow she had ever seen back in England. She had to admit it made the view utterly beautiful, particularly the icicles that glistened, the snow-coated trees.

"Exquisite, isn't it?"

"It is," she murmured. "Was this how it looked in Jotunheim?"

"Jotunheim is a barren realm. Nothing grows – you will not find anything akin to the trees you see before you," Loki responded, his hand sliding over her belly. "You are pensive. What occupies your mind so?"

"My family," she admits softly. "It is almost Christmas… I have not seen my grandparents, my aunts, uncles… I have not seen them in months. They know I am alive, but I miss them."

"I've noticed. You are awfully quiet, you have been these past few days," he commented. "Nothing near to your usual confrontational self."

"You want that part of me back?"

He merely smiled against her jawline.

"Go, then." His hand curved around her waist, lips pressing to her cheek. "Go to your family. Be with them. But I expect you back within a month."

"You cannot command me, Loki. I do as I please. And if that means I stay longer, then so be it." Eva turned around to eye him in that piercing way she had, though she could not hide her shock at his words.  _He's letting me leave. To see them._ "You have never held sway over me; do not forget that."

Chuckling, his hand slipped down to feel her thigh, pulling her to him.

"Oh, I beg to differ."

Predictably, her eyebrow rose, and she batted his hand away. "Of course you would. Now, if you don't mind, I have things to set in order."

And she walked away.

* * *

The car drove up to the house, a large, warm-looking brick establishment, and Eva quietly thanked Erich, the man assigned to be her bodyguard. The gentle German giant smiled and nodded; despite his aversion to her husband, he had a soft spot for the young lady in his charge, especially since she was carrying a baby.

"Would you like me to help you carry those bags in,  _meine dame_?"

Eva threw Erich a grateful smile, and the man picked up the multitude of bags, chuckling to himself.

"You must have a large family,  _meine dame_ ," he commented, and Eva laughed.

"That I do, Erich, that I do."

She glanced towards the door, and inhaled slowly. Erich watched with a soft expression; he knew why she hesitated. The poor woman had been through so much. Though the bodyguard did not openly oppose Loki, he felt protective of Eva. Erich was well aware that she had been victimised by circumstance, and he felt a great deal of sympathy for the mother-to-be.

"They will not hurt you,  _meine dame_ ," Erich reassured her. "They are your family. They love you."

"I know," Eva whispered. "I know."

With that, she slowly walked up to the door – and knocked thrice.

A small stampede echoed on the other side of the door, shouts of curiosity sounded.

When the door opened, silence greeted her. Shakily, Eva smiled.

"Hi, Dad. Merry Christmas."

"Who is it?" someone shouted – Aidan. With tears in his eyes, Daniel Manning pulled his daughter into a hug.

"I missed you so much," he whispered. "Merry Christmas, sweetheart. Come on. Everybody is in the living room."

The context of that statement hit her like a bullet, and she raised her head to give her father a nervous glance.

"Everybody?"

"Everybody," he confirmed, and a bubble of excitement built up within her as she made her way to the lounge, standing in the doorway.

"Merry Christmas, everybody."

Her entire extended family turned to her voice in shock.

Quite what happened in the next few seconds Eva would never be able to accurately describe, but there were shouts of joy, tears, and a fair few hugs. Everyone wanted to talk and to hear her talk, wanted her to sit down beside them, embrace them, laugh with them. All of which she was wholly willing to do. Aidan had never been happier. It was going splendidly – until her parents broke out the champagne.

"No thanks, Dad," Eva said quietly as he offered her a glass – no doubt as a cover-up. Curious brows lifted at this, and her grandmother spoke.

"Not even at Christmas, darling? Why ever not?"

"I don't really feel like drinking, Gran," Eva responded, trying to keep her voice light.

"But it's Christmas!" a tipsy uncle cried. "Go on, Evie – one glass won't hurt!"

"No, I really shouldn't – " she began, throwing her father a helpless look. He quickly intervened, his tone good-humoured.

"Leave the poor girl alone. If she doesn't want to drink, she doesn't have to. Weren't you trying to quit, Eva?"

"Yes," she agrees, visibly relieved. "I'm trying a no-alcohol policy. It's working well so far."

Somewhat mollified, the uncle did not press further, and Eva, when attention was elsewhere, mouthed a 'thank you' to Daniel, whose expression simply softened, and he turned away to pour wine in his own glass.

When the two of them were alone in the kitchen, Daniel standing in the back doorway smoking a cigarette, it was only then that the subject of recent events arose – her family had been too nervous to bring the subject up, which Eva was intensely grateful for. The last thing she needed was for a confrontation over Loki.

"So, I hear my daughter is now royalty. Fancy that."

"I didn't want it. You know that – "

"I'm not asking you to justify it, Eva. I know why you did it. You don't ever need to justify bravery to me."

Eva glanced down, and Daniel's hand took hold of hers.

"Hey. All I care about is that you are safe. That your baby is safe. I don't care who the father is. That child is going to be loved regardless. It's my first grandchild after all – though I have to admit I was hoping to be a bit older before I could say that." His eyes twinkled, and she relaxed slightly, giving a slight smile.

"I'm sorry. I'm just on edge here – I know that they're going to bring him up soon. I'm surprised they haven't already. Maybe they're too afraid to."

"You're not obliged to answer anything you don't want to, remember that," her father reassured her.

"That won't stop them pushing, though, will it?" she pointed out wryly. He sucked air through his teeth, looking sheepish.

"No, probably not."

Elise protested then that she was cooking and they weren't helping, so with guilty grins the two of them set to helping serve the food in dishes, sending Aidan into the living room to announce that lunch was ready. A small commotion was heard as the family got up and began to move into the dining room, chairs scuffing the carpet as they moved back and people sat.

Eva helped her parents carry serving dishes in, piled with potatoes and vegetables. There were loud noises of approval as the food came in, and she cracked a smile as she set plates down, then taking her place next to her mother, Aidan grinning at her from the other side of the table.

Conversation was warm and light-hearted, with crackers being pulled and ridiculous jokes being told. That was until halfway through the meal – when discussion turned to the topic Eva dreaded most.

"So, Eva," an aunt began, pouring herself a glass of wine, "how on earth did you end up here? The word was that Loki, our supposed 'king', had you at his beck and call."

The room fell to silence, and all eyes swivelled to rest upon the young woman currently wishing the ground would swallow her whole.

This was just like the lunch of all those months ago – except Loki was not there to draw her away.

"I was with him for the past few months, yes," she admitted quietly, gazing at her aunt, her voice surprisingly steady. "At his behest. If I had been able to leave, I would have. But he is not one to cross. For some reason, he allowed me to come here for Christmas. I don't know why."

"Did he hurt you?" her grandmother asked. Eva inclined her head, expression sober.

"Yes."

"And now you are his queen."

"Yes."

Eva did not miss the exchanges of looks between family members, and she sighed, placing both hands over her face and inhaling and exhaling slowly.

"Yes, is the answer to your next question. I know what you're thinking. The answer is yes."

Eyes widened at that, and Eva inwardly groaned.  _This is not what I need._

"Look, can we not?" she continued, lowering her hands. "All I want is a reunion with you lot, and an enjoyable Christmas. I haven't seen you all in months. I missed you. Can we please focus on family, and not what I've been doing for months?"

"But you were taken by him!"

"You were in New York! You were in France!"

"He took you everywhere!"

"Are you really his queen?"

"Why did you let him – "

" _Enough_!" Daniel suddenly roared, startling everyone into silence. He glared at every single one of them. "Eva has been through hell and high water these past few months and she does not need your pestering now! Yes, she's been with Loki. Yes, she is his queen. But now she is here, to enjoy her time with us – so you would all do well to close the lid on this subject and simply put it behind you!"

They all had the grace to look ashamed, and Eva was able to blink the tears back from her eyes.

"I don't want any stress," she said shakily. "I just want peace."

Sympathy painted their faces then – but her grandmother spoke again.

"Eva… there's a reason why you aren't drinking, isn't there?"

Her granddaughter's cheeks paled, and there were audible gasps.

"You're not…?" her aunt whispered. Eva raised her head to face them all, and she nodded.

"I am. I'm pregnant with his child. And I'm keeping it."

"But it's his – "

"No. Don't judge me. Don't you  _dare_ ," Eva cried, standing from her seat, glaring at all of them. "It's my child. And I want to keep it. So don't you dare try to persuade me otherwise!"

She ran from the room, tears stinging her eyes.


	24. Chapter 24

In the end, none of it mattered. The disapproval, the looks, the words. None of it had a point.

Eva woke in the middle of the night to bloody sheets and an aching belly. Her heart went cold and her voice was desperate as she screamed for help. Family members stumbled into her room – but the only one who would be able to help was already kneeling between her thighs, his eyes intent on assessing her.

"Oh, Eva –" Elise hurried over in her dressing gown to sit beside her, taking her daughter's hand, for once not objecting to Loki's presence, only wanting to comfort the trembling woman on the bed. Daniel shooed the rest of the family out – including an anxious Aidan – and shut the door, turning back to the chilling scene.

"The baby?" he asked, gazing at Loki's back. The god raised his head to look at Eva, and her heart splintered.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "It's a miscarriage."

Tears sprung to his lover's eyes, hand to her mouth, and Elise kissed Eva's temple, murmuring softly in her mother tongue. Loki felt a pang, and it hurt him more than he liked. It had been his unborn child as well as Eva's, and to see the remnants of an almost-life staining sheets… He was no stranger to seeing blood, but this unnerved him more than any mutilated corpse or dying warrior that he had seen in his long lifetime.

"I'll run a bath," Daniel said quietly, and he vacated the room, leaving his beloved daughter alone with mother and god.

It was a while before Eva would be moved from the bed, but Elise gently persuaded her to go and sit in the bath. It broke the mother's heart to see her daughter so shocked, seeming empty, and Loki glanced at her.

"Go to your husband, Elise. I will see to Eva."

Elise opened her mouth to quibble, but upon hearing the multitudes of family downstairs, and Daniel's exasperated tones, she simply kissed Eva's forehead and left the room, giving Loki a warning look – which he found vaguely insulting. But perhaps it was reasonable, given his nature.

It was easy enough for Loki to lift Eva into the bath, and he sat on the edge, as he had done before – only this time there were no teasing grins or protestations of modesty. Neither of them cared about that now.

"I should not care," she whispered, gazing down at the water. "I should not care."

"Of course you should," he disagreed gently. "It was a child."

"But it was yours."

"And it was yours. Half of you. It was not undeserving of care, Eva."

She was silent, her fingers toying with the flannel – but when she raised her head, tears glistened in her eyes, and her voice was soft.

"Please leave."

"Eva – "

"I said leave."

His eyes flashed briefly; he had never taken well to being ordered about, but he simply rose off the edge of the bath and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

The sound of Eva crying made his fingers clench.

His clothes shifted from blood-stained to clean, and he rolled his shirtsleeves down before descending the staircase. Involving himself in Eva's family affairs was something he was in no way keen to do, but he knew that Daniel would want to know the state of his daughter.

Absolute silence fell when he appeared in the living room, a room still festooned with reminders of the mortals' celebration. Loki ignored the wide stares and uneasy swallows to focus on the man standing by the window, looking more than a little hassled.

"I believe she wishes to be alone," he announced quietly. Daniel inclined his head.

"Alright. Now get out."

Loki raised a brow; Daniel simply stared back at him.

"You are not welcome here, Loki. You may have fathered my grandchild but that does not mean you are a part of this family. You are not. Now leave. "

Loki did not move – and then there were screams as he vanished and reappeared right in front of Daniel, pressing him so close against the window that the glass threatened to crack. His eyes were cold, and the grip around the mortal's throat was inhumanly strong.

"You may not command me, Daniel Manning," he murmured, watching the human's eyes dilate and feeling the weak, mortal throat convulse as Daniel tried to inhale. "I am your king, and you would do well to remember that. I may not harm your daughter, but I make no such promises for you or your wife – or any of this rabble. I do not care if I am not welcome. I have no desire to be part of your kin. But Eva is my queen, and she has just lost my heir. I do believe she should be higher on your list of concerns than attempting to remove me from the premises."

Loki released him, and Daniel started coughing, sucking in air and simultaneously rubbing his now-red throat. Loki merely disregarded him and glanced at Elise, before turning his attention to the young boy sitting in the corner, fear shaping his youthful features.

"Aidan."

"I don't want to talk to you," the boy said simply, getting up and leaving the lounge; Loki had to admit that the sheer boldness of that move impressed even him. The corner of the god's mouth twitched almost imperceptibly, and he moved from the window. He disappeared from view, only to settle – invisible – outside the bathroom. He remained perfectly quiet, listening to his lover.

Eva sat in the bath; the water carried a red tinge, but her body was clean. Her face was devoid of tearstains, and she simply stared ahead of her. She no longer had any idea of her future. While pregnant, she at least knew of possibilities. But now her womb was empty, her heart torn… and she was not certain of anything.

Sighing, she groaned and rubbed her face with her hands before pulling the plug and stepping out of the bath. She couldn't hide in here forever, much as she might desire to. Making herself presentable seemed to take an age, but at last she studied herself in the full-length mirror. Long, curling blonde hair twisted and tied to the side, a soft blue shirt, and slim dark jeans. _Good enough._

It was with a heavy heart that the Queen of Midgard descended the staircase and steeled herself to enter the living room. As her footsteps sounded upon carpet, whatever talking sounded immediately ceased, and Elise was the first of the throng to speak.

"I boiled the kettle,  _mein Liebling_. Would you – "

"Please." Eva's voice, predictably, fell close to a whisper, and everyone in the room winced. Slowly, Daniel approached, and he gently pressed a kiss to his daughter's forehead.

"I'm so sorry, Eva."

Everybody else echoed such a sentiment, but her father's was the only one she truly heard. One by one they all returned to their beds, leaving Eva alone with her mother and father. Eva gripped the mug of hot tea that Elise handed to her, barely caring that it was too hot to hold. The slight pain helped her focus.

"Loki… where is he?" she asked hollowly. Daniel glanced at Elise before he spoke, somewhat curtly.

"He left, I presume. He startled a fair few of our family by vanishing into thin air."

"He does that," Eva murmured. "But he hasn't left. Have you, Loki?"

A faint skein of amusement formed amidst the god's solemn demeanour as he stood in the doorway, and he removed the veil.

"You called?"

"I thought I told you to leave," Daniel said curtly, but Loki ignored him to walk over to Eva. His wife did not look at him, only focused on the mug in her hands – though her hands were trembling. Gently, he reached for her hands – and after removing the mug, he encased them in his own, cooling the reddened skin. She seemed so small. There was a fragility to her that he had never seen before. Of course, he thought humanity a fragile race on principle – but seeing Eva like this, so vulnerable… It surprised him.

"Tell me what you need."

"I need… I need… I don't know," she whispered. "I don't know what I need." She felt empty; she did not dare put her hand against her stomach, for she knew that she would cry once more if she did.

"I can take you to Charlottenburg if that is what you would prefer," Loki murmured, disregarding the parents' expressions. "If, however, you wish to remain, I will not quarrel. The choice is yours."

"Oh, you're giving me a  _choice_  now?"

It was intended to be sarcasm, but it only sounded surprised, and Loki – much to his annoyance – felt his heart tug. He nodded once, voice still soft.

"Yes."

Finally, Eva looked at him, but there was such pain in her eyes that he wished she hadn't.

"I just want to sleep," she said quietly. "It's late."

The next few minutes were a blur, but she somehow found herself curled up in a clean bed, with Loki sitting beside her, his eyes almost tender.

Almost. 'Tender' was not a word that could be associated with him.

"Did you know I would lose the baby?" she asked softly, blinking as her tired eyes met his. He sighed.

"It was highly possible. I had doubts about the biology of a human and jotun; I did not think we could even procreate. But it seems I was wrong. Partly. I still do not know if your body can carry a child of mine to term."

"Let's not find out," she mumbled. His fingers found hers, though they made no move towards a reassuring squeeze.

"You are my wife, Eva. My Queen. Another attempt must be made."

"And if it kills me?"

"Then it kills you."

Her eyes shut, and she laughed brokenly.

"You're a heartless bastard, Loki. Why haven't you fallen to pieces? It was yours too."

"Because I've fallen too many times," he replied, abruptly sober. "And I will never do that again."

In the midst of her grief, it gave Eva pause for thought, and she looked at him. Truly looked at him. What she saw was a man struggling to contain emotion, because it had always landed him in trouble. Struggling to maintain an aloof façade, because nobody had cared. Nobody had listened.

She almost pitied him. Almost. Whatever sympathy she might have openly shared had been forced back by the reminder that this man had conquered Earth, forced her to be at his beck and call… and made her his reluctant queen.

Somehow she knew that those things would always come into play whenever she felt something for him. As if scolding her heart for daring to lust after him – amongst other feelings. Feelings that ran deeper, feelings that her heart longed for and revelled in and abhorred all in the same moment.

"Did you even want a child?" she asked. "Not an heir. A child. Did you?"

He was quiet, and Eva thought she had her answer, until –

"Yes. I did."

Soft, sincere. Something she had never thought Loki could be, and seemingly proved wrong. It threw her, and she raised herself up on one elbow.

"I thought you… I thought you only cared about securing your throne."

He laughed quietly. "I can do that easily, without the birth of a child."

Eva's brow lifted. "Goodness, can it be? Does the big bad Loki have a heart?"

"I would not go  _that_  far, Eva."

"Oh, of course not."

She closed her eyes and settled back on the bed, pain flitting across her features.

"I don't think I've ever felt so empty," she whispered. Loki's hand moved to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and he leant down to press a kiss to her temple.

"I know," he murmured. "Rest now."

"Are you going?"

"I must."

"Oh." Silence, and then –

"I'm sorry."

It took him aback, but his response was steady.

"I know that, too."

His fingers lingered upon her cheek, before he rose from the bed, and turned away.

Eva did not see the single tear that fell as he vanished.

Nor did she feel his anger, despair and frustration.

After all, he was used to keeping his emotions inside.

Tonight had been no different.

* * *


	25. Chapter 25

Eva came down for breakfast late the next morning. There were circles under her eyes, and she was ashen. She had not slept well, that much was obvious, and concern lingered upon the faces of her family – that, and an unease that, despite her sadness, confused her greatly. Only after seating herself at the table did she voice her bemusement.

"Has something happened?"

Daniel handed her an envelope with her name upon it in emerald ink. "He left it for you this morning."

It was unopened, wax-sealed, and Eva felt the weight of it in her hand. She was acutely aware of all eyes upon her, and she stood from her seat, moving to the corner of the room to open the letter.

Her eyes scanned the writing, brow creasing, and when she looked up, her voice was quiet, fingers folding the paper.

"Excuse me."

Without another word, she walked across the open-plan room to the adjoining living room, where a fire crackled in the fireplace. She knelt before it, and gently tossed the letter in, fodder to the flames.

"Eva?"

"It's nothing," she said softly, watching the paper slowly turn to ash. "Loki is coming tonight."

"Why?" Aidan asked. Eva closed her eyes.

"I can't tell you, Aidan."

"You came here to be with family. Away from him," Daniel said, and Eva could hear the annoyance in his tone.

"Circumstances change," came the curt utterance. "And I have a fool for a husband."

"What's he done now?"

"He invaded Earth, and now he has to face repercussions." She rose to her feet, and continued in the language that only three other people at that table understood. "But not from the humans. He's in trouble. The bloody fool."

Daniel and Elise's eyes widened, and Eva reached for a glass, pouring herself some juice and taking a large gulp, trying to calm her mind.

"I'm sorry," she said ruefully. "I really am."

"Never mind that now," Elise spoke gently. "Sit down and eat something. You're shaking."

_Am I?_  Eva glanced down at her hands, and saw that her mother was speaking truth. She was trembling, and she set down the glass before juice could meet carpet in an assured tragedy. Hurriedly, she took her seat, and tried to settle in for breakfast, though her mind was elsewhere. Family events such as these seemed so mundane now, and she could barely focus.

_Oh, Loki, what have you done?_

* * *

She felt him arrive, felt his presence a second before the room fell silent, and his hand upon her back made her turn her head.

"Loki."

"Eva." His voice lacked the arrogance she was so used to, and she revolved to face him in surprise.

Strain pulled his features taut, haunted his eyes, and unthinkingly she leant up to kiss him, hands cupping his face. He froze, and then relaxed slightly, his hand moving to hold her waist. Pulling back, Eva blushed a little, but her voice was steady.

"Talk to me. What is going on?"

Loki glanced around, and then shook his head. "Somewhere more private."

"Come with me." Eva led him without another word up the stairs, and into her bedroom. She closed the door, and turned around to face him.

"What is it, Loki? What have you done?"

He made no reply, only unearthed something from inside his jacket. Something long, thin… and sheathed. Eva stared, her heart leaping into her throat. Loki withdrew a dagger from the leather scabbard, tossing the leather to the side. His eyes burned into hers, and without explanation, he uttered ancient, binding words in the language of his heritage.

"Flesh and bone. Life and death. Let this union be sealed in blood. Let us be bonded, body and soul. Let us be one."

Eva's eyes widened as he took hold of her hand, and he cut a shallow line in her palm, causing her to jolt. Outraged, she stared at him – but then realised that he meant for her to do the same.

The enormity of it dawned upon her, and it was a moment before she could take the proffered hilt. Grasping it, she felt the weight in her hand, balancing it. Her mind flew back to throwing knives with Natasha, to playing darts with her father as a child, honing her coordination. She could throw it now if she wished. End Loki. He had given her a weapon… and somehow trusted her not to use it against him.

_And I can't. He is needed._

Gripping the knife, thumb atop the blade, feeling the unsharpened edge, she took Loki's hand in her, and slowly drew the sharpened side along his palm. A thin line of red formed, and Loki took the knife from her. He let it meet the scabbard upon the floor, and then, his eyes more intense than Eva had ever seen them, he took hold of her hand. Bringing it up, bending at the elbow, he clasped her hand in his, and Eva stared in amazement as their hands glowed gold. Her gaze flicked to Loki, and his other hand tilted her chin.

" _Kona_ ," he whispered.  _Wife_.

" _Ma_ _ðr_ ," she replied.  _Husband._

And they kissed.

When he broke the embrace, Eva looked up at him, and his fingertips brushed her jaw.

"Why?" she whispered. "What is going on?"

Loki gently turned her, and for the first time she registered the sound of waves crashing against a cliff – the one they currently stood upon. The horizon seemed unreachable, the depth of the seas immeasurable, and Loki walked to the edge of the cliff, staring out.

"You burnt the letter, I presume?"

Growing ever more confused, she murmured assent. "I did. But I –"

"And you told nobody of its contents?"

"Not one. Loki –"

"Say not another word." Still he had his back to her, and Eva swallowed her fear. He was troubled – any fool could see it. And it irritated her that she cared. Of course, there was still a part of her that screamed to push him off the cliff – but circumstances had changed. If Loki died, Earth wouldn't have a hope. What had been written in the letter, brief though it was, was unsettling, and Eva was trying very, very hard to remain steady.

"You must trust me, Eva. Trust me on this, if nothing else."

Eva looked at him, sadness lingering in her eyes.

"How can I, when you deceive at every turn?"

"Eva. Please. Trust me. I need you to trust me, just once. Let me do this. If I cannot, then the entire human race will be extinguished."

"And you care?"

His face – though unseen to her – was grim, but his tone was soft.

"I learn from past mistakes."

The steps to stand beside him were careful, measured, and her hand touched his arm. He showed no reaction to her proximity, only continued to gaze out at the horizon. His jaw, however, was taut, and his eyes were filled with a million unspoken things.

"I married you because I needed to form the bond. I needed to know that should you be met with trouble, I would be aware of it. We are linked, you and I. Can you not sense it?" His hand moved to take her own, and Eva inhaled in sudden shock.

"I  _feel_  you," she whispered. It was true. All his emotion, tangled and complex, hit her in that second, and it almost left her reeling, so much so that she pulled away, gasping, unable to bear it. A rush to her brain. An overload. She'd never felt anything like it, and it heightened and dulled things all at once.

"Eva. Eva." His hands rested on her face, and he was startled to see tears in her eyes. "Eva…?"

"You  _did_  care," she whispered, staring at him in open astonishment. "Our baby. You're  _grieving_. And I thought –" Her voice broke as two tears slipped down her ashen skin, blotted by Loki's thumbs.

"You thought wrong," he said softly. "I am not one to openly show emotion. You know this. But the child was mine as well as yours. I would be a heartless man indeed if I felt nothing for my own flesh and blood."

It was then that it dawned upon her.

" _Family_ ," she breathed. "That was what the child meant to you. Your own flesh and blood. Oh, Loki…"

He said nothing, but that was as good as agreeing. Another tear fell, and her hand held his cheek.

"I'm so sorry," she choked. "I'm so sorry."

His hand found her head, and he kissed her forehead, closing his eyes, fighting his own sorrow as Eva expressed hers. Oh, if only Thor could see this. If Odin could see the grief, the pain. The union between god and mortal. He doubted Thor and Jane Foster would bond in such a way. Marrying was not taken lightly in Asgard, as it seemed to often be on Midgard. Rarely did divorce happen – matrimony was a sacred thing. No Asgardian had ever tickled his fancy enough – he certainly hadn't ever viewed the giggling ladies of the court as viable partners. Well, not  _life_  partners. Bedding them was an entirely different story. But Loki had never thought he would actually  _wed_.

_It seems I was wrong._

* * *

"Thanos is coming," Loki murmured as the two lay in her bed. "The being I made the deal with. He is coming, and I… I do not know for certain how to stop him."

Eva leaned on her elbow, the duvet shifting as she moved, and her eyes, for once, were serious, devoid of sarcasm.

"What did you do?"

Loki exhaled. "I bargained with him. I agreed that he should have the Tesseract, that he could advance across the Universe, and in return I would have Midgard to rule as my own."

"And you accepted?" Her voice was horrified. "I've seen the Tesseract. I know what it can do. Why on earth would you bargain  _that_?"

"I never intended to give it to him," Loki said, slightly coldly. "But Thanos works with the mind. He is a stronger telepath than even I am. He has made creatures die, made them servile, tortured and manipulated – all with his thoughts."

She gave him a glance.

"He tortured you, didn't he?"

"Yes." Loki's voice was quiet. "Yes, he did."

"I'm sorry." The words felt ashy, dull, devoid of any substance, and his eyes flickered, before swivelling to meet hers.

"I never thought I would hear a mortal express sympathy for me," he mused. "Especially not the woman who professes to loathe me."

"Nobody should go through such things," Eva murmured. "Not even you."

She could not bring herself to correct his statement, however, and it did not go unnoticed by him.  _Still clinging to her desperate morality._

"What do we do?" she asked, bringing him out of his thoughts. His brow creased.

"We keep him away from Midgard."

"And how do we do that?"

He ran a finger along her jawline, eyes suddenly tightening.

"I cannot tell you. If Thanos were to breach your mind… I cannot risk his discovery of my plans. Do not look at me so; there is nothing you might say that would alter my decision on this matter."

"But he breached  _yours_. How powerful is he, Loki?"

"You would consider me benevolent in comparison with Thanos," the god replied quietly. "He is known as the being who courts Death – and yes, I do mean the personification. I suspect he is trying to impress his love with these conquests of his."

Eva exhaled, trying to somehow equate Loki with benevolence. It was not very successful. It was akin to imagining Thor as evil. Low success rate indeed. Troubled now, she ran a hand through her hair.

"Shouldn't you be counter-plotting instead of lying in bed with your wife?"

"Perhaps. But as I have been ruminating for weeks now… One tends to desire a break."

"And I'm that break."

"You certainly are not displeasing to my eye, and you do not present a life or death issue." There it was, that certain wryness which Eva had learnt to recognise as a trademark of his, and it was with a quiet laugh that she closed her eyes and moved below the duvet a little more.

"Oh, I'm so glad I do not displease you," she murmured, lips curving. "My heart would wilt if I did."

He chuckled then, and noted to himself that his heart felt a little lighter. Of course, the problem still loomed, still hung over him and seemed ever growing – but for the moment, he did not give a damn. Thanos could go to Hel.

* * *

The Other bowed his head before his great master, his voice grating, harsh as it emanated from beneath the hood.

"He knows you are coming, master. What shall we do?"

From where the great titan stood, the universe could be seen in all its glory – and Thanos gave a faint smile.

"Of course he knows. He is no fool. You know what to do."

At this, the Other's mouth curved, and it was a grim, unnerving sight.

"Yes, master."

When he walked away, it was with purpose. The time had come. The wheels would turn. The paths would be taken.

And the princeling would be slaughtered.

The Other smiled, and gave the order.

* * *


	26. Chapter 26

_“I’m sorry.”_

_He smiled, and it pained her more than anything ever had before. How had it come to this? How could she stand there and say nothing but those two pitiful words? An utterance that likely didn’t even sound sincere?_

_“I know,” he replied quietly. “I know.”_

_The blade flashed, and the floor stained with scarlet._

* * *

 

Eva woke, panting, sweat clinging to her skin as vapour would to hot porcelain. There was no god beside her to kiss or push the nightmare away; perhaps he had crept away back to Germany to deal with other matters. She could hardly scold him for it; being King of an entire planet was no easy talk. _He only has himself to blame._

            A cup of tea later, and she sat at the kitchen table. It was dawn; no one else was up yet, much to her relief. Contact with people seemed almost abhorrent in this moment. Solitude was sorely needed. Minutes later, and she was walking out in the snow. The branches of trees glistened in weak sunlight, feet crunched powdery white underfoot. Not a soul met Eva as she walked along paths and roads, and it was refreshing. She almost felt as she had before all of this. An unknown. All roads were familiar, yet she felt disconnected. As if she was no longer welcome. As if she was shunned. Unease slithered in her belly, and the cold bit, the wind grazing her chilled-pink cheeks. It was with relief that she arrived home, warmth embracing her ice-worn skin. Feet padded into the kitchen, and Eva smiled tiredly at her father. He pushed a cup of cocoa towards her across the table, and she accepted gratefully, blowing on the steaming liquid as her fingertips brushed the hot ceramic texture.

            “What’s on your mind, sweet pea?” he asked quietly, stirring his own drink. Eva sighed and tapped the rim of her cup.

            “I don’t… I don’t feel like I belong here anymore, Dad. I don’t know what to do. And there are things I don’t know that Loki won’t tell me, and he’s afraid of it, I know he is. He doesn’t show it, but the fear is there. And something’s coming for Earth. Something big. God,” she laughed wearily, “doesn’t that sound like a cliché from a film?”

            Daniel didn’t share in her humour, instead reaching over to grasp her hand in his. It stabilised her a little, a mooring for a ship, and she smiled tentatively.

            “I love you, Dad.”

            His thumb stroked the back of her hand, and he gestured. “Go on, drink up. You need it.”

            “Are there biscuits?”

            He did laugh then, and got up to hunt for some. “Aha!” Producing a packet of chocolate digestives from the cupboard, he set them down. “There you are. Extra chocolate.”

            “Best Dad ever,” she wryly declared, slipping a biscuit from the packet and dipping it in her cocoa.

            “I try,” came the dry response as he sat down again, stealing a digestive for himself. “Not the healthiest of breakfasts, but it _is_ Christmas. Health flies out the window at this time.”

            “Agreed.”

            “So. You going to tell me why Loki came last night?” His eyebrow arched. “Don’t think I’m deaf, Eva. I know –”

            “Oh, my God, stop.” Her cheeks flushed a brilliant crimson, and she almost choked on her drink. “Don’t say anymore. Not a word.”

            Rolling his eyes, Daniel took a bite of biscuit, chewing. “It’s nothing I’m a stranger to, Eva. How do you think you came about?”

            “Stop. I just – no. No more.” She drank a little in her mortification, missing Daniel’s amused twinkle in his eye.  “Something serious did happen last night, though.”

            The glint faded, and his brow creased. “What?”

            “We… we were hand-fasted,” she murmured. “We are truly married now.” Her eyes lifted to meet his. “Are… are you disappointed in me?”

            His gaze darkened, and his breath came in a heavy exhale. A hand rubbed his face, underlining his tiredness, and he looked at his daughter.

            “You got married and I didn’t get to walk you down the aisle. You got married, and it was to someone we all hate. You don’t even love him.” He seemed suddenly sad, and it tore at Eva’s heart. “I’m going to assume the marriage has a purpose other than love for evermore.”

            “You assume right.”

            “Twenty first century, and marriage is still made with politics in mind. Good grief.”

            “He was raised a prince; he probably had nothing _but_ politics in mind,” she said somewhat wryly. “And I’m not even highborn. He married a commoner - and a human one at that. Not even I saw that coming, I have to admit…”

            “Do you want to be his wife?”

            Ah, there it was. The million-dollar question. And this time Eva could look her father in the face and answer honestly.

            “I’m not ready to marry anyone, Dad. But I had to do it. I can’t tell you why. Maybe I’ll be able to someday. But not right now.”

            He studied her for a moment, before his eyes softened and he placed a hand over hers, his grip firm but not uncomfortable.

            “You’ll do the right thing, in the end,” he murmured. “You know your own mind. Whatever you have to do – do it. As long as you know it’s worth it, I won’t question it. Elise might be slightly more disapproving – I sometimes think she dislikes Loki more than even I do – but she won’t stand in your way. Do what you have to, sweetheart.” Leaning forwards, he kissed her forehead, exhaling through his nose. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

            “I know,” Eva said gently, squeezing his hand. “I’ll do my best not to.”

 

* * *

 

 Loki appeared in the doorway as Eva unpacked her belongings. They were back in New York; Germany seemed pointless, now that there was no baby to care for. Both of them were bruised, emotionally, but they were recovering. The god had shadows under his eyes. As Eva turned to look at him, she wondered if he had slept badly because of the loss. He might wear masks, but he did feel. She knew he did. It was clear enough now. That fateful time of bonding had proved such a thing. The bond was there now. He was reasonably level, though edged with darkness. Always those edges. Eva doubted they’d ever truly turn to goodness.

            “Mum didn’t take the news of our marriage too well,” she said in greeting. “Dad was slightly better, but I think you know his feelings on it. Aidan… well. He just hugged me.”

            “I see.” Loki’s voice, though even, was laced with strain; Eva was finding it easier to detect nuances. Or perhaps he was used to her enough that he could let his guard down a little. She suspected it was likely the latter.

            An awkward silence fell. Eva did not know how to fill it, or even if she wanted to. The room seemed too big and yet too small, and Loki was the shadow at her back. Everything was different. Wounded animals with no energy to fight anymore.

            “He’s still coming, isn’t he?”

            “He was never going to stop.”

            “What do we do?”

            He did not answer immediately, and the pause was long enough to make her heart begin to sink.

            “If my plan succeeds, then we will be fine.”

            “And if it doesn’t?”

            “Then Earth will burn.”

            “Excellent.” Eva tried her best to sound light-hearted, but it came across as tired and bitter. Loki took careful steps towards his wife, and his fingers toyed with strands of her golden mane.

            “Have faith in me.”

            She laughed, the sound hollow, dull. “Have faith in a liar and a trickster? Are you really asking me that?”

            “Yes.” His tone was as measured as his footsteps had been, no humour to grace his voice now. “As I asked you before. If you do not trust me, you could lose your life.”

            “Funny how you care about that now.”

            He made no answer, and she felt him move from her. His footsteps were soft upon the thick carpet; idly she thought he’d make a good burglar. Precise to the very last.

            A strange inhalation sounded from him; for a moment Eva thought he was smelling the flowers on the table.

            But you don’t smell with your mouth…

            Turning, she saw Loki utterly rigid, his back ramrod-straight. His fists were clenched; a flicker of concern lit itself in her mind, and she walked cautiously up to him. His face was unseeing and yet observant, and his jaw was as taut as his back.

            “Loki?” she whispered. Then, slightly louder, “Loki!”

            Nothing. No response whatsoever. Alarmed now, she simply stood there, unsure of what to do. Was it an illness? Was it pain?

            And then his eyes filled with tears, and they swivelled, focusing on her.

            “I…”

            Fear. That was what it was. She understood it in that moment. Loki was terrified. The sheer strength of it was astounding, and instinctively Eva’s hands cupped his cheeks.

            “Loki. You’re here. Safe. It’s alright.”

            His answering laugh was bitter.

            “Safe. Of course I am.” He pulled her hands away from his face, staring at her. “Only a mortal would say something so naïve. Foolish girl.”

            In the past, such words would have stung. But she could ignore them now, or so she thought.

            “It’s called comforting someone. You were in distress. But if you don’t want me to help you, I won’t.” Her tone was calm. “I’ll be in my room.”

            She walked away without another word.

            Loki sank to his knees. Thanos’ taunting had shaken him to the point where he was glad Eva had left. He did not think he could have kept his façade up a moment longer. His hands trembled, and he exhaled, an attempt to regulate his breathing, closing his eye. Norns, but Thanos was truly made of nightmares. Loki had blocked most of the pain from his mind, but he could still remember the voice spun of terrors, the hissing of the Other, the touch of those creatures, the pleading, the desperation –

            His eyes opened. Realising he had fallen sideways onto the carpet, he scolded himself for displaying such weakness. And yet the fear tore at his heart, hastening the pulse every second. He made no move to lift himself from the floor, too weary and too disheartened to make the effort. Somehow the carpet seemed safe. Warm.

            An image of Frigga flashed through his mind, and pain gripped his soul. There was a time where he had been soothed by her when hurt or harm ensued. Not anymore. He would never admit, even to himself, how much he needed her. As every boy needed his mother. Loki had not been a boy for centuries… but he still yearned for a mother’s comfort. For a mother’s guidance.

            And here, he had neither one. 


	27. Chapter 27

Loki ran his fingers along the stone. The field was deserted, as he had wanted. He doubted any mortals would wish to explore on this day; the weather was truly horrific. But he did not feel the iciness of the wind biting his cheeks; it was a perk of his heritage, if ever there was one.

            He sighed, watching the vapour of his breath billow before his eyes. They would think him strange, to be outside with so little clothing. A suit and no coat. No gloves. No hat. A scarf, yes, but nothing that could be considered warming; it was more of an aesthetic feature to satisfy his vanity. An unearthly creature. Born of ice and snow, none of that flesh which humans so easily tore and bruised.  He was a god, after all. _Their god._

But then what did that make Eva to them? Oh, he knew what many thought of her, and he knew that it hurt her. But was she his goddess? _Their_ goddess?

            _Ah, but she is flesh and blood as they are_ , a voice reminded him. _She is no deity. She will die as they die. What is it they say? Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. You won’t have her youth for much longer. A decade at most. A mere blink, to you._

As his fingers trailed along the stone, residue left its mark. But not the residue associated with mess, with unpleasant substances. No. This residue was a pale green, almost smoke-like – and it swirled around the stone. Words of power left his lips – words borne from his native tongue. The tendrils of smoke seemingly illuminated, a bright, sudden moment – and then the light faded, drawn into the stone.

            Loki exhaled, and he pressed his forehead to the rock, the roughness almost soothing. He could only pray that it would succeed.

            But he had no one to pray to.

 

* * *

 

“Hey there, queenie.”

            Eva raised her head from the book in her hands – and an eyebrow arched. “ _Tony_? What on – ”

            “Well, after the fiasco on the Helicarrier, you fell off the radar,” Stark said idly, stepping from thin air into the room. He gazed around at his surroundings. “Man, he really likes the good stuff.”

            “So do you.”

            “Well, yeah – ”

            “And he did grow up a prince.”

            “That too.”

            Eva snapped the book shut, rising to her feet. “Why are you here, Stark? I thought the last place you’d want to be would be here.”

            The scarlet-suited billionaire paced around the living area, gazing at the art on the walls.

            “How was your Christmas?”

            Eva’s eyes narrowed.

            “Busy,” came the curt reply. “Answer the question.”

            “He actually let you go home?”

            “Tony.”

            “As in, stay with your family?”

            “ _Tony_.”

            “Y’know, I wouldn’t have thought he’d let you do that, what with his own issues and all – ”

            “Continue this conversation and I will punch a hole through that suit and crush your balls.”

            He seemed to realise she was serious, and held up his hands as if in deference. “Hey, no foul. I was just not expecting him to be so… accommodating.” The mask retracted, revealing a tired but alert face, and the familiar dry humour lingering in those brown eyes. “I actually came by to deliver the news. Fury is out, and Hill is in.”

            Now, _this_ was interesting.

            “I’m not surprised; Fury was bordering on madness the last time I saw him,” Eva responded steadily, eyes meeting his. “Admittedly Loki’s fault, but still.”

            “Yeah, where is the Rock of Ages?” Tony asked, glancing around as though the trickster would appear on demand. “I thought he had you guarded like a damn trophy.”

            “Clearly not if I went home for Christmas.”  She gave him another look, but dissolved into laughter a moment later. Oh, she had missed him. He was light-hearted in a way Loki wasn’t, carefree in a way no family member could ever be. The man himself cracked a smile, but then his eyes turned confused, his brow furrowing accordingly.

            “What?” Eva said, tilting her head. 

            A moment later, realisation wiped his expression, and Stark sighed.

            “Sorry about your kid, sweetheart.”

            That was so unexpected that for a second Eva froze.

            “Oh… Yes. Thanks.” Halting, robotic, thrust suddenly into memory. “That obvious, is it?”

            “Well, you’re not showing. Not hard to guess,” Stark replied, unusually gentle. “You okay?”

            “Better than I was,” Eva answered quietly. “It was hard enough without having extra family members in the house. Difficult to face aunts and uncles when you’ve just miscarried the hated ‘king’s’ heir.”

            “I’ll bet.”

            “You’ve not experienced this… have you?”

            Stark cracked a grin. “Nope. Pepper wouldn’t have trusted me with a teenager, let alone a baby.”

            It was the first time she’d seen Tony not look grieved at the mention of his lover. Her eyes widened slightly, but she made no comment, choosing instead to gesture. “Coffee?”

            “Sure Reindeer Games won’t flip a table?”

            She gave him an arch look. “If I remember rightly, that is Thor’s speciality, not Loki’s. And Loki is out. Otherwise you’d probably be strung up and gutted by now.”

            “I figured as much. Alright. One coffee. Black.”

            “Coming up.” Eva moved to the small kitchenette that had been installed upon her request; it frustrated her to have others cook for her. She wasn’t used to servility the way Loki was. She doubted she ever would be.

            “How are the others holding up?” she asked.

            “Okay. SHIELD’s still adjusting to Fury’s breakdown. But we’re as stable as could be expected. Waiting for Loki’s next move.”

            “Is it his move?” She kept her voice carefully neutral.

            “You know it is. We’re not strong enough to push him yet. So we wait.”

            “We wait.”

            Silence fell, at first comfortable, but increasingly tense as Eva felt Tony’s eyes burning her back.

            “What’s he planning, Eva?”

            “If I knew, I couldn’t tell you,” came her instant reply. Perhaps too instant, for the billionaire’s gaze narrowed, and Eva found herself unwilling to face him.

            “Don’t go silent on me now, queenie.”

            “I don’t have a choice, Stark. I’m not in trouble if I tell you. Loki won’t flip. But there’s more at stake. I’m not sure he even meant to tell me that much – ”

            There was a crash, and Eva whirled, dropping the carton of cream on the floor in shock. Glass littered the floor – and Loki lay on the floor, coughing. Sarcasm rose to her tongue, as was so often her way.

            But then she saw the blood.

            “Loki, jesus – ”

            She was by his side in an instant, cupping his cheeks. His chest was sticky; Eva nearly vomited when she saw the blade protruding from his stomach.

            “Get Thor!” she yelled at Stark. But the billionaire did not move; instead he only stared at Loki.

_Waiting for him to die. Oh my god, he’s waiting for Loki to –_

            “ _Get him now_!” she screamed. “If Loki dies, we are _fucked_! Do you hear me? If he dies, Earth follows! Now go!”

            That seemed to jolt Tony into action, and he shot out of the shattered window, a speck in the distance within seconds.

            Eva turned back to Loki, whose face was whiter than she’d ever seen it. Panic threatened to crash over her, and she stared at the wound, feeling utterly helpless.

            “What do I do?” she choked, hands hovering over the blade, uncertainty lining every tremble of her fingers. “I don’t know, tell me, what do I do?”

            Loki coughed again, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. His hand moved to hers, and he guided it to the hilt of the blade. _Pull_. His fingers closed around hers, and she shook her head.

            “I-I _can’t_. What if it kills you?”

            A harsh rasp of a laugh sounded, faint amusement twinkling in his eye. Even she could see the irony in that question.

            _Pull_ , came the silent command again. _Do it._

            Wincing, hating every fibre that gripped the dagger, she pulled.

            The dagger came free with a horrible, horrible sound, and she dropped the blade to the floor. Loki’s hand grasped hers and pressed it to the wound. He groaned, and Eva flinched.

            “What do I do now?”

            “Keep… pressure,” he said slowly, eyes flickering as they gazed upon her. “Asgardians heal faster… than mortals. I will not… die.”

            “Well, that’s a relief,” Eva muttered, and to her surprise she meant it, despite her sardonic tone.

            Thor arrived minutes later, and Loki raised his head, laughing yet again, though weaker this time.

            “Ah, Thor. Look at me. Would you like to… kill me now? It… wouldn’t take much. Then you might have your… precious Earth.”

            The Thunderer ignored his brother’s jibes to walk over to him. He placed Mjolnir on the floor before gently moving Eva’s hand away from Loki’s stomach. His eyebrows creased as he observed the blood still pumping, and he looked at Eva.

            “Do you have bandages?”

            “I – there might be some in the bathroom.” She scrambled to her feet and hurried to the aforementioned room, hurriedly searching for any material that could be used. A thin roll for small wounds was uncovered, but she knew it was not enough. He would bleed through it in seconds.

            “Only one thing for it – ”

            She ran to her wardrobes and pulled out several scarves, long and thick enough to staunch the wound. Hurrying back, she handed them to Thor. Loki arched an eyebrow.

            “Red and gold flowers… Lovely.”

            “Shut up,” Eva said, barely glancing at his face whilst she watched Thor take them and wrap them around Loki’s now bared torso without a word. He was oddly focused and precise; Eva wondered if the legend declaring him a god of healing was true. _Handy if it is._  

            “Eva.” Thor’s voice jolted her out of her reverie, and she looked up to see Thor holding Loki in his arms. She almost laughed at the absurdity of the image, but Loki’s ashen face warned her off such a thing. She rose to her feet. Thor inclined his head, expression sombre.

            “I will return for you when his condition is stable,” he said softly. “I promise.”

            With Mjolnir in one hand, he shot out of the window, a weakened Loki held by an arm.

            “Please be safe,” Eva found herself whispering as she watched their shapes fade into the horizon. “Please.”


	28. Chapter 28

Of course they wanted to kill him. How could they not? If Loki was killed, Earth would be free. No tyrant would lay claim to their beloved planet. Thor could not fault them for that. And yet a part of him was bellowing inside. Loki was his _brother_. As much as they might have fought, as much as Loki had hissed and Thor had pleaded… the Thunderer still loved him. Still yearned for Loki’s redemption, repentance. But what chance was there of that now?

            The Helicarrier had been awash with jubilation as Loki was seen bleeding in his brother’s arms. He had tried to be discreet, to appear only to those most trustworthy, but Thor was not easily disregarded, as a being.

            And when Thor laid Loki down on a bed and demanded he be healed – there was uproar.

            “You understand we can’t,” Hill had said immediately. “He may be your brother, but he has caused too much damage to our world.”

            Thor fought not to lose calm.

            “Protection then, while he heals. I do not want any of SHIELD harming him.”

            His fingers flexed as they gripped Mjolnir’s handle, and it was a gesture missed by none.

            “I have reason to believe he is in trouble,” Thor continued quietly. “Trouble that Midgard cannot beat without his help. You cannot end his life when he holds valuable information.”

            Clint arched a brow, leaning against the wall and giving Loki the occasional hostile glance.

            “You sure you’re not just making that up to save his ass?”

            “He’s not.”

            Both Stark and Eva entered the room in which lay a comatose Loki and an angry Thunderer. Maria Hill turned at the sound of Eva’s voice.

            “And we should believe you why?”

            “Because he told me, and I’d never seen so much truth come from him before,” Eva replied calmly. “Whatever it is, it frightened him. A skeleton in his wardrobe, a demon, a ghost, I don’t know what. But he has a plan. He kept disappearing from New York to do something. He hasn’t told me what.” She walked over to Loki, her eyes scrutinising his unmoving face. He seemed so peaceful. There was no malice here, no cunning. Unable to resist, she lifted a stray strand of hair from his face, placing it gently behind his ear.

            _I kissed that ear once. Twice. Bit it, too. And he’d laughed._

“Will he wake soon?” she asked softly. Thor approached and gazed at his brother.

            “Yes. He is simply healing, though it will take longer than I would like. It was a grievous wound, but he will live.”

            “Good.” That single, quiet word slipped from her lips, much to her surprise, yet she kept it hidden from her features. “We need his help, after all.” 

* * *

 

“The satellite, sir. It’s picking up something.”

Both men frowned as they stared at the readings, and the second spoke.

“Picking up what?”

 

* * *

 

The ships moved silently through the system, weaving their way through the belts and clusters. They could hear the waves of Earth, like sirens. Radio, radio, radio.

            The Other smiled.

            They had arrived.


	29. Chapter 29

_“You’ve been asleep too long, you know.”_

_A faint smile, an amused note slipping from between his lips. His eyes did not open. Not even when her mouth brushed his, though he reciprocated with a gentle, languorous sort of enthusiasm. A thumb skimmed his jawline._

_“Are you chiding me?”_

_“I might be.”_

_One eye opened to the world, and his lips toyed with mirth. There she was. Sat by him on the bed, dressed in something his oft-lecherous mind craved to tear from her form._

_“Get your mind out of the gutter.”_

_He laughed. How carefree this was, how effortless. His hand grasped her chin, and he gently brought her down to kiss him, sighing against her mouth. There was a glow surrounding her, illuminating. Her eyes were brighter, a piercing electric shade. A human might have said she looked angelic. But Asgard did not have such mythology, and Valkyries were not that beatific. Loki’s gaze softened, but it burned when she pinned his hands above his head, her grin devilish. Playful._

_“Something on your mind, my queen?” he asked._

_“Oh, always.” Her smirk broadened, and suddenly she was not her, her skin was a violent shade of purple, her face was creased, lined, inhuman, and those eyes –_

_“Too late.”_

_A searing pain._

 

Loki sat up, gasping, startling those in the room. Thor stepped forwards, seeing the sweat on his brother’s brow, his wild-eyed gaze, this appearance a sharp shock to those who had only ever seen the calculated, malicious side of the trickster god.

            “Brother –“

            “Where is she? Where is she?”

            “I’m here,” Eva said, stepping from the corridor into the room. Instantly Loki relaxed, though his heart still played the beat of war. “What happened? Nightmare – hey!”

            But Loki would not release her. His hands gripped her face, and he peered intently into her eyes, trying to ascertain the damage. If Thanos had control of her mind, he would never forgive himself. His consciousness breached her own, sifting through her memories, her vital cognitive functions. Finding nothing, he breathed a sigh of relief, and finally lowered his hands. Eva frowned. Such agony in his eyes, for once in plain sight.

            “You’re alright,” he said softly. Her eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline.

            “Shouldn’t I be?”

            His lips thinned, and Eva noticed just how tired he was.

            “No. You shouldn’t.”

            He made to leave the room, but several armed men raised their weapons. Frustration fell over his features. Thor gave the men warning looks, and they slowly lowered their guns.

            “Loki. You can’t leave until you’ve explained what’s going on,” came Eva’s surprisingly soft tone. “Nor until you’ve healed properly.”

            Those words seemed to unlock everything, and he hissed in sudden pain as it all came flooding back. His otherwise bare abdomen was _on fire, seething_ beneath the layers of gauze and bandages that some mortal had no doubt wrapped around him with less than noble intentions. So preoccupied was he with this sudden torment that he did not shrug away when Thor placed a supportive hand at the small of his back.

            “Sit, brother,” he urged. “Rest. You won’t be harmed here, I will make sure of that.”

            Loki barely heard him, furious. Those damned Chitauri. They had attacked him. On _his_ orders, on the orders of that bastard creature. Giving in and sitting on the edge of the bed whilst simultaneously trying not to wince, he looked up as Hill walked into the room, accompanied by – joy of joys – the mortal Avengers.

            “What are the Chitauri doing?” he asked quietly, knowing no one would lie to him now, if only to rub his face into the dirt. Hill folded her arms, steely as always.

            “They are running loose, Loki. Seems like they’re not taking your orders anymore.” An arched eyebrow, questioning.

            “No,” Loki muttered. “No, they are not.”

            “Then whose?”

            He placed a hand on his stomach, fighting the sudden desire to bite his lip. Still tender, this wound, but he would not die from it. Eva gently touched his shoulder. _Lie back_ , her eyes said. _Rest._ He found himself incapable of disobeying, and slowly laid himself back against the pillows, bringing his legs up onto the bed. His eyes closed.

            “He is stronger than any creature your world will have encountered before, perhaps the strongest you will _ever_ encounter. Stronger than I. Stronger than Thor. You have nothing that could hold him off. Not even your nuclear atrocities could deter him.”

            It clicked then for Eva, and she spoke before Hill could douse him in icy words.

            “That’s what you’ve been doing, isn’t it? Whenever you disappeared?”

            Loki ran his tongue along his teeth. “Yes. You might all think me a heartless monster, but I will not see Earth fall. It is one of the Nine Realms, after all – Eight Realms does not have so much of a ring to it, wouldn’t you agree?”

            There was silence, broken by the soft thump of Mjolnir being set upon the floor. Eva turned her head to see Thor, pale. It did not suit him, the golden prince. Worry had aged him, Eva noted. There were lines on his face she was certain she had not seen before.

            “Mother was right to have faith in you,” he said quietly, and Eva thought she detected a crack of emotion in his voice. Loki’s smile was bitter.

            “Was she?”

            Thor had no words to offer his little brother then. Loki’s acid was something he still had trouble with. The mischief he could handle, but the cold anger, the hostility… It was still new for him. Still a barrier that he could not yet cross.

            “What do we do?”

            Heads turned to see Steve in the doorway, having listened to every word. Loki exhaled.

            “I will need a meeting,” he said carefully – and then, as an afterthought, “And a glass of scotch.”

            Several eyebrows rose at that, but Hill did not quibble, ordering the armed guards and the assembled Avengers out of the room. They obeyed, albeit reluctantly, and she followed, though pausing at the doorway to address Loki.

            “We’ll hold a meeting in fifteen minutes. I assume you can walk.”

            With that, she was gone, down the hallway.

            Eva glanced at her husband.

            “You really fucked up, didn’t you?”

            Loki surprised himself by laughing.

 

* * *

 

Eva took the seat beside a now fully-dressed Loki, partly to avoid sitting near someone like Natasha who might skin her if the god did anything nasty, and partly because Loki looked like _he_ might skin Eva if she didn’t sit by him. (Eva silently added that insecurity to the list in her mind.) Thor sat on the other side of him, with Mjolnir resting oh so casually on the table-top. 

            “So, what – or _who_ – exactly are we dealing with?” Clint asked, eyeing Loki less than favourably. Loki pondered briefly over how pleasant it had been, influencing the archer’s mind – he might want to save Earth, but he couldn’t give up _all_ his sadistic tendencies – before turning his attention to the mortal’s query.

            “He comes from a race known as titans,” Loki began, finger idly running along the rim of his glass. The scotch was pleasant enough – he’d been surprised they actually had it – but it wasn’t a patch on his own store back in New York. “His name is Thanos, and across the universe he is known as the being who courts Death. Death with a capital D.”

            “As in the personification?” Despite all she had seen, Natasha still possessed a degree of scepticism towards certain extra-terrestrial notions. Loki inclined his head.

            “I would imagine his pursuit of the Nine Realms is due  – not to put too fine a point upon it – to his desire to woo his lady love. Even titans have their weaknesses, it seems. His grasp of the mind is far greater than mine. Only with the help of the sceptre could I bend the human consciousness, but he has no need of such an instrument. He is wholly capable of doing that just by wishing it.”

            An uneasy quietness fell over the room. There was no need to vocalise their thoughts. Everyone was picturing it. All of a sudden Loki seemed like a benevolent guide compared to the horror looming on the horizon. Loki of course knew exactly what they were thinking – and had the situation not been so hazardous, he would have felt smug. Perhaps even let the ghost of a smile edge his lips. But not now. There was too much at stake for even a trickster god to jest.

            “What do we do?” Steve asked quietly, his fists clenched. The question they all wanted an answer to – and if his reply did not suffice, Norns only knew what grief they’d put Loki through. The god licked his lips, choosing his words with care.

            “I have erected several monoliths throughout your world. They will act as power conductors. What they will do – should I succeed – is carry my magic much like your wires do electricity. At present they are imbued with a protective spell.”

            To Eva’s surprise, Thor appeared in awe of his brother; so unguarded was the Thunderer in his expression that it took everyone else at the table aback.

            “You have that skill? It took my grandfather an _age_ to construct that part of the Bifrost!”

            Loki afforded his sibling a dry smile, just on the right side of patronising, as was his habit. “I learnt it, yes. Funny the things you can learn in books, brother mine.”

            The atmosphere had noticeably altered from tension to relief. If Loki’s magic held…

            “Are we safe?” Stark spoke up, unusually quiet. Loki turned his head, and nodded once, his mind wondering curiously at this canvas of human suffering. Gone was the cockiness, replaced by an uncharacteristic caution, a measured sort of composure. Only a mask, of course. The god had no doubt that the billionaire wanted to watch him fall – but he couldn’t. Not so soon. Loki was needed – and Stark _hated_ it. 

            “Yes. Once I am healed, I will go to the nearest stone and activate the spell.”

            “How long will that take?”

            “Not long. After all, protective magic needs to be quick, does it not?”

            He had a point there. Hill finished tapping on her tablet, fixing her iron stare upon him.

            “And what if it doesn’t work? Are you prepared to have the blood of billions on your hands, Loki? The blood of innocents, of children?”

            Loki rose from his chair to his feet then, seeming untroubled by her words, a shadow of his arrogant self returning to the fore.  

            “I almost committed genocide once, Maria dear. I suppose we shall see, shan’t we?”

            He vanished from the room – and Eva closed her eyes as she too disappeared.

 


	30. Chapter 30

The god was fully healed within hours, and it had stunned Eva to see him discussing strategy with SHIELD’s highest operatives. Clint still treated him warily, and it was not difficult to fathom why. Nor did Eva blame him – and Natasha’s hand was almost constantly on the gun in her thigh holster.

            Despite her lack of military knowledge, of strategy and tactics, Eva attended every meeting, listening more intently than she ever had to anything before, partly because she could not bear not knowing what was going to happen, partly because she could sense that Loki was more at ease with her in the room. No magical skill was needed for her to sense that, and she wondered if Loki realised the slight lessening of tension in his shoulders and posture when Eva sat beside him. No doubt the more acute of eyes noticed it – Natasha had more often than not eyed the two of them almost curiously.

            The coffee incident had taken more than a few of them aback. Eva had disappeared for a few minutes, and returned with a coffee for herself as well as one for Loki. The god had raised a brow, which Eva matched with her own.

            “It’s no Nespresso, but it’ll do,” she said by way of brusque explanation. Loki gave her a long, searching look, before inclining his head and taking a sip of the beverage. Too bitter, but he was not rude enough to say so. Not now. Eva drank a little of her own, and arched an eyebrow at those who stared in silence.

            “Just because I got him coffee, it doesn’t mean he’s in my good books,” she said dryly. “He won’t be until after we survive this mess.”

            “Good to know,” came the quiet wryness beside her. “I’ll keep that in mind, Ms Manning.”

            The discussions resumed then, and Eva remained quiet throughout them. Neither she nor Loki traded barbs. The situation was far too serious, and even Stark was usually subdued – though no one could blame him when he was forced to make plans with the man who’d killed his lover.

            “There is nothing humanity can do,” Loki said calmly. “You do not have the weapons needed to stop him.”

            “No, because you hid them away –“ Natasha began, but Loki gave her a look.

            “Not even your nuclear poisons will halt him. Earth is a young realm. It has much to learn. Thanos will crush this realm if he breaks through the barriers.”

            “But he won’t,” Eva cut in, glancing at Loki. “Will he?”

            Loki met her gaze – and she did not like what she saw.

            “I would hope not.”

            “We need a back-up plan –“ Hill spoke up, but faltered as Loki slowly shook his head.

            “All I can give you as a backup is the pathway to Asgard. The Bifrost.  But Odin likely would not welcome swathes of mortals; nor would he appreciate Thanos finding his way there. Odin must protect the realms, yes – but his own comes first. It will always come first. If Thanos breaks through, Earth will fall.”

            Silence. Faces paled as the enormity of the situation set in. Thor was gazing at Loki, his expression thoughtful.

            “The vault, Loki.”

            Loki’s eyebrows shot up. “Odin would not allow it. He would not trust me with any of them, much less allow me to make use of them.”

            “You already have one of the artefacts,” Thor reminded him. “It’s been missing for months. I know you have it.”

            “The Casket is rightfully mine.” Loki’s voice was hard. “Do not presume to tell me I am not permitted it.”

            “You disdain your kind, and yet you cling to their source of power,” Thor said, unusually perceptive. “You cannot do that, Loki. You cannot tread the line anymore.”

            “I am Laufey’s son. Why should I not have it?”

            “Because you are not their king.”

            Loki suddenly snapped – and everyone instinctively flinched back as a long golden spear was aimed at Thor’s throat.

            “Why would I want to be king of that godforsaken rock of a realm?” he hissed. Thor’s expression did not change.

            “It is godforsaken because you make it so,” came his even-toned answer.  “If you were to give them back the Casket, Jotunheim would flourish.”

            “And Asgard would be attacked! Does the golden prince desire that?”

            “Don’t be a fool, Loki.” For the first time, steel edged the elder brother’s tone. “Put the spear down. It won’t do any good here. Spare your anger here and save it for the enemy.”

            Loki stared at Thor, and no one could be sure whether he’d strike or not. A gentle hand rested on Loki’s, over the spear.

            “That’s enough, Loki. Focus.”

            Loki was deathly still, and then his head slowly rotated to face the woman sitting at his side, jaw tensed, cheekbones sharp. Eva’s eyes, somewhat shadowed with anxiety and lack of sleep, brought him sharply back to earth. The spear vanished; it was followed by a collective relaxation of posture at the table.

            Eva did not move her hand, and it was perhaps that which kept him calm as the discussion continued, everyone at the table grateful for her intervention. She might dislike the god, but she had a hook in his heart, and all could see it.

            But the two individuals were loath to admit it.

            It was an elephant both were content to ignore until the day the trumpeting become too loud to ignore.

            And both hoped it never would.

 

* * *

 

“I’m taking you back to your family.”

            Eva froze in her room, the clinical feel suddenly far too stark for this conversation, and then slowly shook her head, her heart sinking at his horribly final statement. “No.”

            Loki didn’t even blink, far too used to her defiant nature by now.

            “No arguments, Eva. It’s not safe for you here. And if Earth falls, I do not want to deprive you of your family.”

            Surprising her again. That was almost caring of him. Still she shook her head again, tapping his chest.

            “You expect me to sit by while everyone else pitches in?”

            He gave her a frank look. “Yes. You are neither god nor ‘superhero’, as the mortals seem to be so fond of using that term. You are a scholar. This is not a fight that will be won with words, and as such, I cannot risk your life.”

            His lips pressed to her forehead, taking her completely aback, as did the sigh that followed.

            “I do not disregard your ferocity, little lioness,” he murmured. “You are one of the bravest mortals I know. A fool, perhaps, but a brave one nonetheless.”

            Eva surprised herself by embracing him, the smell of leather and danger and _him_ filling her nostrils. There was a pause, and then his hands held her close.

            “Be careful,” she whispered. Loki closed his eyes, smiling.

            “Chaos is never careful.”

            “Then try. And if you fail, I’ll slaughter you far worse than Thanos ever could.”

            He laughed. “I will hold you to that.”

            “Good.”

            Minutes later, and Eva hugged her family. Loki stood apart from it all, watching with a strange pang in his heart as familial love bloomed in the room. Eva glanced at the long line of his body when he turned to go, her mind calling out to him, and as he turned his head, they simply gazed at each other. Just one, solitary second.

            And then, he was gone.

            Eva shut her eyes and forced herself to smile as her family bombarded her, pushing her worries to the side, for the moment ignoring the fact that humanity could be extinguished in a matter of days. Loki had not told her how close Thanos was, but she could tell by the look in his eyes. No words had been needed.

            She wondered if they’d ever exchange words again.

* * *

 

Loki paused as he returned to the Helicarrier, only one step taken, and a sickening feeling imploded in his gut as his magic told him everything.

            _They are close._

_They are coming._

            Without telling anyone, he shifted straight to the nearest monolith.

            His palm rested on the rough stone, and he gazed up at the sky, at the unseen guardian.

            “Inform Odin.”

            And then he activated the shields.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never thought I'd say this, but I can see the end of the story. It's in sight, after two years. I'm both fearful and excited. I hope you've loved this as much as I've loved writing it. 
> 
> Just a few more chapters to go!

Eva paced through the chamber, restless. The sun beat just as relentlessly through the gaps between pillars, and she leant against one of them, unknowing of anything that was now certain. She watched the ships gently move to and from ports, finding them somewhat soothing in motion, though she was not focusing. Not now. Her mind was far too jumbled and uneasy to truly unwind and lay at rest – much as it might want to.

            “You should not dwell on it, my dear.”

            Eva did not look at the queen as the monarch reached the pillar and stood beside her, but she replied with a thread of despair.

            “How can I not? That is my homeland at stake. My family.” Her eyes shifted to the regal grace of Frigga’s features. “You understand the importance of that. I know you do. And I am kept here, unable to see or know what the hell is going on. I don’t even know if my loved ones are safe!”

            Frigga gave an elegant nod in admission, face ever steady.

            “They are safe, Eva. Heimdall sees all. He sees them, and he knows they are safe. He would inform us if they were not.” She lightly laid a hand on Eva’s shoulder. “You know they would be here if Odin allowed it. But he is averse to too many mortals in Asgard.”

            Eva had to bite her tongue to stop unsavoury words leaving her mouth, but judging by the slight twinkle in Frigga’s eyes, the queen knew her feelings exactly.

            “Why did he allow me here?” Eva asked, frowning. “Surely I am just a simple nuisance to him?”

            Frigga’s brow rose.

            “My husband knows how valuable you are as a hostage. If the enemy managed to capture you, Loki would fall to his knees.”

            A short, brusque laugh, and Eva shook her head, a thin, dry curve turning her mouth upwards.

            “No, he wouldn’t. He isn’t _quite_ that devoted –“

            “Oh, he is,” the queen cut in, smiling. “Why do you think he changed his mind and had you brought here by Heimdall? ”

            That brought Eva up short. Why _had_ he done it?

            Swallowing, she gazed out at the sea below.

            “We’re not good for each other. Even you must know that. We’re destructive.”

            “That you might be, but you have wrought some change in him. You have opened him up. Never has he been so frank with a woman before – or quite so intimate. No, I don’t expect good will come of your relationship in the long term – but you have induced him to fight for what he wants, and I cannot fault either of you for that. You’ve hurt each other, and now you want to save each other.”

            The human gave the Asgardian a sidelong glance at that. _Do I want to save him? Truly? Is he worth saving, after all he’s done?_

            “I still want him to suffer,” she said, after a thoughtful pause and realisation of brutal honesty. “I don’t think I can forgive him for what he did. This isn’t a love story with a happy ending, my lady. We will still bare our teeth and hiss at each other whatever the outcome of this war. And when this war is over, I will not stay with him. I’m not willing to do that. I’m not meant for a life with him and he’s not meant for a life with me. He knows that. I know that.”

            “But you love him.”

            Eva looked away, preferring to look down at the people milling about. Her voice was quiet when she eventually spoke, no longer defensive, no longer in denial. The Asgardian queen had the gift of foresight; one could not lie to her so easily.

            “I suppose I do,” she murmured, closing her eyes briefly. “I suppose I do.” Another curt laugh. “Not that I’m happy about it. I’m sure you can understand why. I’ll be labelled a traitor back home. No matter what Stark and the others say. I won’t have a free life. I will spend the rest of my life answering for crimes I did not commit.”

            “Assuming you go home, of course.”

            A wry smile. “I cannot stay here. Of course I will go home. My family is there. What is there for me in Asgard but a tormented man on the brink of insanity and strange looks from Asgardian civilians?”

            Frigga returned the lip-curve. “My dear Eva, you will always be welcomed in Asgard – if not by my husband, then by me. Any woman who can steal and hold ransom the heart of my tortured trickster son is welcome, in my eyes.”

            “I’m flattered, my queen,” Eva replied, and though she answered dryly, part of her was truly touched. At least one individual here did not think her a traitor. “Will Odin send aid?”

            The queen nodded. “Yes. He was wrong to refuse before, and he knows it well enough now. Even he, proud as he is, will admit that fault. Though he did not yet know of the army waiting to swarm Earth, he still had a duty of care to your realm, and he denied you what you needed. I doubt you will get an apology from him personally, but consider myself remorseful, Eva Manning. Will you forgive Asgard this slight?”

            Now, that took Eva aback. An apology from the queen herself? Rare indeed. Eva was silent for a moment, and then she nodded.

            “I will. But only if Earth survives.”

            Frigga gave her a long, appraising look. “You strike a hard deal, Eva Manning. It is no wonder Loki was attracted to you; he does like a complex agreement. But you speak with fairness. I would not expect your forgiveness if your people were lost.”

            “Precisely.” Eva said nothing more, unsure how to proceed. Frigga seemed to sense this uncertainty, and gently took Eva by the arm.

            “Come. You must eat something. Worry is a draining emotion for even the strongest of us.”

            She led Eva away, and for once the human woman made no protest.

 

* * *

 

The shields held. Loki could have wept in relief – but he knew it was far from over. Thanos’s army had been relentless, and it was only a few hours since they had begun firing. Loki, not for the first time, praised his own insightful nature, and his own magical skill. Had he not learnt such abilities from his adoptive mother… he knew that Earth would be a flaming shell by now. No human would survive the weapons Thanos had at his disposal. Loki knew. He’d seen the damn things.

            Humanity stared in shock as the alien race bombarded them with hideous, icy blue energy blasts and enough ammunition to tear the planet in two – but they only rebounded or exploded in vibrant flashes and deafening bangs against the shields. What _was_ this? Who had such anger against the human race?

            Of course, it wasn’t the human race that had earned such anger. No, Thanos did not give a damn about tiny humans. But most did not realise that. Only a few were wise and informed enough to understand that Loki was the sole reason for this onslaught. No other.

            SHIELD watched in barely concealed horror as the firing never seemed to cease. Breath was bated. No one spoke. What if they broke through? What then? No nuclear weapon could beat this. Could it?

            They had posed that exact question to Loki himself, who shook his head as he too observed the assault.

            “No. Thanos has lived too long and is too advanced in his knowledge of technology. What you humans possess, he saw and used eons ago. Humanity is still taking baby steps, in his eyes. No matter how many missiles, no matter how many crudely put-together weapons you might have – nothing could beat what he has. Nothing.”

            Maria Hill, predictably, was not best pleased. Most could not see past the usual poised façade she wore, but the Avengers could. And they knew she was inwardly tearing her hair out. The fate of the human race hung in the balance – and hardly any humans knew why. The worldwide media was going nuts, people were adopting the clichés and panicking and rioting in the streets. Religious fanatics screamed about Judgement Day, about reckoning and rapture.

            _Oh, if only they knew_ , she thought to herself. _If only they knew._

            Loki had watched her, somewhat admiring her calm. Most humans he knew to be fretful types – she was dismantling that notion with ease. Thor continually turned the handle of his beloved Mjolnir in his hands; his brother knew that action. Knew his older sibling was just _itching_ for a fight.

            “You always did despise feeling helpless,” Loki murmured to him as they waited for something – anything to happen.

            Thor sighed, jaw taut. “Is it that obvious, brother?”

           Loki laughed in spite of the situation. “Yes. Always.”

            “At least I amuse you.” A faint smile upturned the Thunderer’s lips. “I seemed to do that often, when we were younger.”

            “That you did, Thor. That you did.”

            A young man’s head suddenly turned to face them, eyes wide.

            “There’s a signal. Someone wants to speak to us.”

            Loki rose to his feet, and no one dared challenge his taking of control.

            “Let them.”

            A few seconds later, and a deep, rumbling voice that the trickster knew very, _very_ well echoed around the bridge.

            “ _It’s been some time, boy. I thought we had broken you_.”

            Loki’s face remained impassive, though if anyone had seen the inside of his mind they would see a struggle between steadiness and terror.

            “Clearly you thought wrong. And now you seek your vengeance, am I right?”

            “ _Naturally_.” Amused now. “ _Wayward boys must be taught their lesson – though I must say, I am impressed by your shields. Did your mother teach you that trick, too?_ ”

            “No,” came the almost casual tone, though Thor could see the tell tale whitening of Loki’s knuckles. “This is all my own doing. Are you proud?”

            It was then that Thor realised just how afraid his little brother really was.

            A mocking laugh sounded then. Not one on the bridge moved – some dared not even breathe. Eyes were wide, and all were fixed on the usurper. Loki did not let his features crack, not once. The last thing Earth needed was a trembling leader. And Loki had always been the diplomat, not the deserter. Not when the fight was duly needed.

            _“A little impressed. But child’s play, you know. I’ve only been toying with you. I like to see the natives run screaming. It’s rather entertaining.”_

            And damn it, Loki could not tell if the courter of Death was bluffing. It was poker, but he couldn’t see his opponent’s face, let alone the hand that the cards provided him.

            “You always did like a show,” Loki replied. Another laugh.

            _“Oh, yes. And you know that well enough, don’t you?”_

            Loki fell to his knees.

            Instantly Thor was by his side, Mjolnir abandoned, hands shaking now as he cradled a writhing, screaming brother. Thor could only watch in horror as Loki flinched and convulsed – and then as the blood began to trickle from his sibling’s nose. A thin rivulet, but soon it thickened. Alarmingly so. Thor gripped Loki’s body, staring wildly at him.

            “Loki! Loki, look at me – _look at me_!”

            “ _He can’t hear you, Thunderer. The mind is a frightening place. I am only delivering on the promise I made him. Is the blood pouring from his nose yet? Yes? I’d say your peace if I were you. The minute he dies, the shields will fall. Last words, I feel, may be appropriate._ ”

            Loki’s eyes shot open then, wide and rimmed with red. He stared at Thor, blood bubbling from his lips.

            And then he smiled. A terrible, ghastly, bloody smile.

            “Not… today.”

            There was a sudden surge of energy, strong enough to resonate through the Earth – and then the shields burst outwards, ripping into the alien vessels as if they were nothing but trees in a hurricane. They tore through the ships without mercy, violently green, as cruel as its master.

            Loki smiled again as he felt Thanos’s shock – and then, nothing.

            “Ta-dah.”

            His eyes slid shut.


	32. Chapter 32

Drifting.

            Always drifting. He could not tell for how long – and indeed, he would never know. Time was not important here. Such constrictions did not exist. Not here. Here was different. Here, he drifted. Always.

            And then, the three women.

            Mother, maiden, crone. A mantra, repeated by many by way of prayer, even on Earth - and he could see the three of them perfectly before him. A shifting landscape unfolded before his eyes, but the women were constant. The Norns had never changed. They never would.

            The youngest, the one whose face was unwrinkled, smiled in greeting. It was a gentle smile, but Loki would be a fool if he weren’t unnerved by it.

            “Hello, World-Breaker.”

            It was all Loki could do to unknot his tongue.

            “Skuld,” he whispered, and then, to the remaining two, “Verdandi. Urðr.”

            Skuld giggled as she sat on her perch, scarlet threads between her fingers. “Look. Silvertongue’s tongue is tied.”

            “A remarkable feat,” rasped the eldest, Urðr, looking at Loki with perfectly sharp, dark eyes ringed with wrinkles. “Yes… remarkable.”

            Verdandi said nothing, merely smiled and observed, her gaze so piercing Loki almost felt the overwhelming urge to look away, a little boy once more. But he steeled himself, and gazed at them.

            “Why am I here?”

            Urðr studied him. Loki felt utterly exposed, and she waved a finger at the god.

            “You, boy, are a strange one. We’ve squabbled over your fate so much, you know. Neither of us can come to agreement. So, the choice is yours.”

            Loki blinked, and he glanced around, mind unable to fathom what they had just told him.

            “… I could go back.”

            “Or you could go onwards,” Skuld said lightly. “Valhalla awaits you, if you so choose.”

            _Valhalla_. Oh, the temptation was strong, and yet, he gave a laugh. Never had he believed _he_ would be one to enter _those_ halls. Thor, yes, but Loki, son of Laufey….

            He looked behind him, just once, but everything was unclear.

            A swallow, and he turned back to the Norns.

            “I’m not yet finished. Am I?”

            Verdandi spoke then, almost kindly.

            “It is your decision, Loki, son of Laufey, son of Odin. We cannot make it for you. Not this time.”

            Memories flooded him, and he paused, sifting through each and every one. Pain and pleasure. Hate and… love. His fingers flexed – and when he stared at the Norns, his gaze was resolute.

            “Very well. The choice is made.”

            “Oh, good,” Urðr replied, almost impatiently. “Now move along.”

            They vanished.

            Loki opened his eyes.

            Eva rolled hers.

            “You’re a fucking idiot.”

            And he began to laugh, and laugh.

 

* * *

 

Two days he’d spent recovering, so Eva told him. Two days of unconsciousness. Eir had done everything she could, “but your brain was bleeding, apparently”.

            “Brilliant,” came his dry response. He turned his hands, shifted his legs, moved his eyes, tongue, toes, fingers. “Well, I seem to be alright.”

            “Yes. You Asgardians heal so damn fast.”

            “We have been known for that.” He gazed at her as she sat by him on the bed. “I’m sorry I had you taken to Asgard. But I had no choice. If –“

            Eva had placed a finger to his lips, and she nodded.

            “I know. I know why.”

            She withdrew her hand. “Do you want to see how horrific you look?”

            “So charming!” He smirked, yet it faded as soon as he saw his reflection in the mirror Eva held up. Oh. Horrific was not an incorrect description, he decided. His vanity was not best thrilled.

            Red-rimmed eyes, stark and bright. Ashy skin – not that he’d ever been tanned, but this was something else. His lips were dry and cracked, and blood vessels pulsed in his eyes.

            “Wonderful.”

            “Isn’t it just?”

            They watched each other, abruptly silent, almost awkward – until Eva leant forwards. Her lips were warm on his forehead, sparking surprise in him, and she pressed her nose to his head.

            “Thank you,” she whispered, voice catching. “Thank you.”

            “Earth survived, then,” he murmured. She sniffed, pulling back, and once again – it would always startle him – he blinked to see tears in her eyes.

            “Yeah. It did. But don’t ever do that again!”

            “World domination or world salvation?”

            “Both. Fool.” She laughed shakily, wiping her eyes. “What was it you did?”

            “The shields absorbed the energy from the blasts, and then projected it outwards,” he said calmly. “Simple technology. But it is too advanced for Earth at present. Earth does not possess the materials needed to summon the energy. I had to improvise.”

            “Glad it paid off,” Eva remarked dryly. “It’s still intact, by the way, still thriving.”

            Loki allowed himself a thin smile.

            “Good. I will return shortly.”

            “No. You won’t.”

            Loki turned his head to see Odin in the doorway, resplendent in gold and silver. Instantly his youngest son tensed, and Eva could see the wild animal seething inside of the trickster. It made her almost wince.

            “Midgard is _mine_ ,” Loki said softly. “My domain. I came, I saw, I conquered. Isn’t that what they say there?”

            “You are not fit to govern the realm,” Odin replied steadily, his one eye scrutinising. “You will have no throne.”

            Instantly Loki was off the bed, as if to throw himself at Odin, but a muscular arm grabbed him by his shoulder, halting his outburst. Thor did not release his grip, blue eyes resigned.

            “Brother. Have you learnt nothing?”

            “I learnt that I can rule,” Loki spat. “Just as I said I would.”

            Eva could only watch, still sat upon the bed. She had not moved an inch, frozen in shock. This was a Loki she had not oft seen. Wild, desperate, and utterly raging.

            “You need to rest,” Thor said firmly, hands taut as he kept Loki from tearing Odin to shreds. “You almost died.”

            “I know!” Loki shouted, eyes nearly bulging, breath ragged. “ _I know what happened!_ And the Norns gave me a choice! I came _back_ , damn you! I could have gone to Valhalla, but I returned! And this is how you welcome me! Imprisonment!”

            There was a collective intake of breath. No one moved. Utter stillness took the room. And then, slowly, Thor turned Loki to face him.

            “ _What_?”

            Loki’s chest heaved, his grin sudden and triumphant, splitting his face and filling Eva with horror.

            “They gave me a choice. I chose my thread, Thor. And here I stand. What have you to say to _that_ , _brother_?”

            “Loki.”

            The younger son froze, and his tongue flicked between his lips, green eyes flitting.

            “Mother.”

            “My son.” The Queen of Asgard stepped closer, entering the room, and her hands gently took his face, thumbs smoothing over his cheeks. “Oh, my son.”

            Thor let go, retreating, and Loki stared at his mother. Anger still simmered, but somehow Frigga had caged it.

            “Am I?” he rasped. Frigga inclined her head, smiling sadly.

            “You always have been.”

            The cuffs clicked around his wrists.

            “No!” he screamed. “ _No_!”

            He tried with all his might to summon his magic, to break free, but it would not come. He thrashed, but Thor was there to grasp him once more. Eva could not bear to watch her lover, and yet she could not bear to look away. Tears spilled, her hand at her mouth. Loki’s head suddenly turned, as if remembering, and the look he gave her would haunt her for the rest of her life.

            Thor hauled him out of the room, and a succession of guards followed. Eva’s lip trembled, and then she ran from the room, running as fast as she could to the gardens. She passed startled guards, citizens, and did not stop until she reached an empty bench. The grief poured forth at that moment, and she clung to the edges of the seat, doubled over in her anguish.

            “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”

 

* * *

           

She did not come to see him until three days later. And when she did, she almost wished she hadn’t.

            His eyes shone too bright in his face, but it was not a joyful light. He’d not slept, she could see it. Hair untamed, fingers bloody – Eva winced when she saw the ragged fingernails coated in scarlet.

            “Three days.”

            She did not move away. “Loki – ”

            “Three days. Three days I have been here, and yet you only come now. Why?” He rose to his feet, gaze piercing, almost cold. Déjà vu washed over her, but no pleasant feeling followed. She had met him in a cell, and she would leave him in one. Glass and metal, stone and magic.

            Full circle.

            “Odin forbade it,” she answered quietly. Loki scoffed.

            “Does that old fool know you are my wife? He cannot keep you from me.”

            “He offered to break the bond. I refused.”

            Loki tilted her head, smiling suddenly.

            “ _Ah_.”

            She sighed. “Don’t make this difficult for me, Loki. Please.”

            “Difficult? For _you_? Oh, _please_.” The acid was back, and Eva almost recoiled. She had almost believed him above such spite these days. “You’re not the one in a cell, Eva. You can walk away from all of this. You’re a free woman. So break the damn bond. Marry some benevolent mortal who’ll give you little angels for children. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

            “I don’t know!” she hit back – and there it was. Her anger. Loki almost grinned, but he had no time for amusement. Not here. Before her ire had thrilled him. Now it only agitated him, brought his own wrath to the surface. “How can I possibly know? After all that’s happened? I can’t go back to a normal life! It will take months, years for Earth to readjust.”

            His expression only hardened.

            “And what of it? Do you want my pity? My sympathy? I _saved_ your pathetic planet. Be grateful for that at least if nothing else.”

            Eva was silent. Her eyes were full of unsaid feelings, and for a moment Loki regretted his outburst. But only for a moment. There was no room for regret in his tattered thoughts. Not anymore. Any sliver of repentance was smothered by rage.

            “The guards are still talking of yesterday’s ceremony,” he said, softer now, though his gaze still scalded. “Eva Lena Manning, now Princess of Asgard.”

            She clicked her tongue, turning her head away, the memory of the display burning her cheeks. “I’m not that.”

            “You are. You married an Asgardian prince. I know you can put two and two together. You’re no fool.”

            Her head slowly returned to look upon him, eyes tired. He could suddenly see all he had put her through, all that he had inflicted upon her. Upon them both. And emptiness was all he felt.

            “Yet I’m married to a man I can’t even spend my life with.”

            _What kind of marriage is that?_ Unspoken, but Loki could read it in her face. She no longer kept her emotions from him.

            “Do you want to?”

            “Would it make you happy?”

            They both knew the answer to that.

            The mortal looked at the god.

            And the god gave a smile of resignation.

            “You knew.”

            “That I couldn’t stay? Yes. I knew.” Eva inclined her head, already distancing herself. “My home is on Earth, Loki, no matter who I’m wedded to. Prince or no prince.” Moving closer, she lifted her hand up against the shimmering barrier separating the two of them. He followed suit, his fingers longer and palm larger. His heart lay heavy, but he could not stop her. Not now. Once upon a time, perhaps, but he was bound in punishment now. And she would walk free.

            “Goodbye, Loki.”

            His eyes softened, savoured every glimpse of her face, her mind.

            “Farewell, Eva.”

            Her hand lowered, and without looking back, she walked out of the dungeon, and out of his life.

 


	33. Epilogue

_**Eight months later** _

 

Eva ran her fingers over the texts. An uncomfortable tightness closed in, but she ignored it. She was home now. Earth was as it should be.

            “Coffee?”

            “Please,” she murmured.

            A few minutes later, and he set down a steaming cup by her hand. She smiled, looking up at her all-too human lover as he sat down beside her.

            “Thanks, Zach.”

            “No problem.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “How’s the translation coming along?”

            “It’s fine. Nothing taxing, but the university wanted me to re-translate it. I owed them a favour.”

            “I guess you’re fluent than most.” His eyes twinkled, kind, soft, and her heart lifted.

            “Yeah.”

            She leant against him, and his arm tucked her close. So warm. Nothing like Loki had been.

            “Do you miss him?”

            Eva bit her lip, thoughtful. “I want to say no, but he was so different to everything. He knew things, and I…” She closed her eyes. “You’d like Asgard. It’s beautiful…”

            Zach kissed her head. “Maybe you’ll go back someday.”

            “Mm. Maybe.”

            They both knew she wouldn’t.

            “Come on. Bring your coffee. We’ll go out to the park. It’s not that busy yet.”

            She chuckled, sitting up and standing. “Alright. Give me five minutes.”

            “I’m giving you _one_.”

            “No!” Laughing, Eva grabbed her keys and phone, nearly spilling her coffee in the process. “Damn it, Zachary!”

            He grinned, pulling her hand; she rolled her eyes, but went willingly.

            As the warm air hit her face, she found herself smiling. It felt safe. Zach felt safe. He didn’t care that she’d slept with a god. He didn’t care that she’d shared the bed of that dictator. And there were no paparazzi now, no accusing glances. No debriefing, no court dates (she’d walked free eventually). No one really seemed to care anymore. It was all in the past. Loki was gone, and she was nothing more than a PhD student.

            She had to admit, she kind of liked it that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for following this story, for loving and reviewing it! You're all wonderful. Will there be a sequel? Who knows? I'll keep you posted. I hope you've enjoyed the ride as much as I have. 
> 
> See you on the flip side. 
> 
> Lightning xoxo


	34. A Question

**Hello all, I know it's been a while. I know a lot of you wanted a sequel, and for that, I apologise. It's been a year and a half of waiting. Basically, I am now coming to the end of my undergraduate degree, with only exams and dissertation to complete. After that, I will have four months until I begin my master's degree. So, here's the thing. I have a few ideas for a sequel, but it all depends on whether you would all like one.**

**Would you? Please do let me know. You've all left such wonderful comments, and I'm sorry I was gone for so long. However, if you'd like a sequel, please do leave a comment. You're all lovely.**

**Lightning xoxo**


	35. Sequel Time

**Bury The Castle**

**A Sequel**

_It has been a year since she and Loki parted, and Eva has finally settled. Yet with Loki's death, Asgard is fragile, and Thor is uneasy. Eva might not want Asgard, but it needs her, and she is pulled right back into their politics with a king who seems determined to wrest her from Earth forever._

* * *

**_(A.N: The preface is up! Enjoy!)_ **


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